


Hold On To The Memories, They Will Hold On To You

by 5oomilesmore (byathousandcuts)



Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29118315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byathousandcuts/pseuds/5oomilesmore
Summary: When Zoey’s powers develop an unexpected glitch, she uses them to find answers—and comfort—as she navigates her grief and her feelings for Max.Begins after “Zoey’s Extraordinary Employee.”
Relationships: Zoey Clarke & Max Richman, Zoey Clarke/Max Richman
Comments: 36
Kudos: 39





	1. Pause

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "New Year's Day" by Taylor Swift.

_“If we both force this thing to happen before you’re ready, then… we’ll destroy it before it’s even begun.” Max held Zoey tightly in his arms as she nodded into his shoulder, both unwilling to let the other go. But they had to pull apart, though their eyes stayed locked on each other’s as if by a magnetic force, unblinking and searching._

_“What now?”_

The question had lingered in Zoey’s mind since that night, the answer still as unclear to her now, weeks later, as it had been when they had decided to put their relationship on pause. Its implications twisted her mind in impossible directions—she loved Max and he loved her, but Zoey’s grief had pulled her down off cloud nine, even though she flailed and struggled to climb back up. She tried to choose happiness, to steer herself back onto the road to acceptance, but her grieving had remained firmly rooted in denial.

Meanwhile, Max had thrown himself into his work, sitting at the rickety old desk he had installed in his and Mo’s restaurant, poring over the same jumbled pile of papers every day. Zoey had thrown herself into the burning embrace of alcohol, drinking herself into oblivion that one night when firing people at work had sent her over the edge. And then, in a moment that she would regret deeply when Mo debriefed her the following morning, she threw herself at Max in drunken longing.

Zoey’s grief built fences around her, keeping her confined to the same familiar places and allowing her to fall into a pattern. She would go to work each morning and go through the motions, sometimes sitting at her desk staring at the same line of code for hours on end. Then she would return to her apartment afterward, slowly making her way through package after package of ramen noodles, which became her evening meal. Eventually, she would visit Aiden in his garage and watch as he rolled a joint before lighting it and passing it off to her. She got high with him every night for two straight weeks as they laid on the couches in his garage, discussing life and death and everything that never came out of it. She would wake up in the same spot the next morning before repeating the cycle again.

Somewhere along the way, Zoey began to lose Max, though it was neither her fault nor his. Before the pattern started truly falling into place, after her first night being high since that one time she experimented in college, Zoey had visited the restaurant to offer her support to Max. His father had stopped in town for a conference and to twist the knife in his son’s heart. Max’s tortured heart song—“Scream” by Michael Jackson—was the last one Zoey heard him sing on her way to rock bottom. In fact, it was the last heart song Zoey heard at all.

On the first day of her third week following her new routine, Zoey found someone waiting outside her apartment when she prepared to sneak out for her nightly smoke session. When she saw him standing there, shame and despair overtook her.

“David?” She whimpered, biting her lip nervously as she took one step backward into her apartment. 

“Hey. Can I come in?” Her brother asked softly, offering her a meek smile as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with his hand. Zoey bit back the instinctive _no_ she wanted to hurl at him and nodded hesitantly, stepping aside as he walked into her apartment, hands in his pockets.

David tentatively paced the length of the living room once, as if plucking up the courage to deliver a poorly practiced speech. “Listen, uh… Emily and I visit Mom basically every night with the baby. You haven’t been stopping by much lately, huh?”

Zoey crossed her arms defiantly, avoiding her brother’s eyes. “Maybe not as much as I used to. So?” 

David sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t come here to try and guilt-trip you or anything. I’m just worried, we all are. I started noticing that you drive up by the house every night. You park a few houses down and then you go into the neighbors’ garage…”

Zoey felt the heat rising to her cheeks before she could label its source—the mixture of embarrassment, desperation, and _anger_ that coursed through her after David’s assertion. 

“I… it’s not…” Zoey stumbled over her words as she searched for the end of the sentence. _It’s not what you think?_ No, it definitely was. _It’s not any of your business?_ Zoey’s grief wasn’t just hers—it was David’s, her mother’s, and even Emily’s. It washed over each of them differently, but there was no denying the common thread that tied them together.

“Zoey,” David pleaded, his eyes more Mitch’s than they had ever been. Becoming a father had changed something in him—there was softness now where there used to be brightness in his face.

Zoey’s lip trembled as she shut her eyes firmly, but the tears brimming behind them forced them back open. She ran into her brother’s arms and cried two week’s worth of tears, burying her face deep into his chest, her body wracked by sobs. David closed his arms around her protectively, and she took a moment to appreciate that they hadn’t hugged like this since they were children—not even since their father had died.

“I know,” David choked out, his arms still wrapped around her shaking form. With one final gasp, Zoey gathered herself enough to pull away from the hug, walking over to take a seat on the couch. David slowly followed and sat on the opposite end, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Every night I go to Aiden’s garage, and I get high,” Zoey admitted, seeing David glance at her out of the corner of her eye. “It numbs the pain. For a few hours, at least.” She didn’t tell David that her new habit was meant to dull her grief as much as it was meant to dull a newer pain—the one that stabbed her every time she couldn’t muster the strength to talk to the one person she wanted to most.

David heaved a sigh, turning his body to face his sister. “I understand why you do it, Zoey. I really do. But as much as we wish we could just numb the pain, we can’t. It’s real.”

Zoey nodded somberly, still avoiding his eyes. David reached into his bag and pulled out his laptop, flipping open the screen and logging on. After a few scattered clicks, he positioned the computer on the coffee table in front of them so that it faced Zoey. She snuck a look at the screen and gasped when she saw their father’s face, frozen in place as it had been for the final months of his life.

“David, I don’t want to watch this,” Zoey turned her head towards the floor, shielding herself from the memory of her father’s decaying life. She assumed it was the testimonial video that her father had recorded for her some months before his death. They had tried as a family to watch the videos six weeks after the funeral, but only Maggie’s video had been recorded by a Mitch who didn’t have to torture himself through every syllable. 

“Please. Give it… give _him_ a chance,” David urged her, and Zoey reluctantly picked her eyes off the ground and faced the screen. David pressed the spacebar, setting the video into motion.

 _“My dearest Zoey…”_ Mitch choked out. Zoey felt her throat tighten, remembering how she had paused this same video after mere seconds the last time she had tried to watch it. This time, she dug her fingernails into the fabric of her couch, forcing herself to power through.

_“I made a video for you… your brother… and your mother.”_

Something shifted suddenly as the frozen-in-place downtrodden look that had roamed Mitch’s face for the latter months of his life slid off, revealing a sad smile.

_Won't somebody please help me with my miseries?_

_Can somebody see, yeah, what this world has done to me?_

Zoey gasped when she heard her father’s singing voice. The last time she had heard his heart sing was on the night of his death, when he and David had joined in a mournful duet to say their goodbyes to each other.

_And I know, I know_

_And I say, oh, I say_

_That no matter where I go, no_

_I will always see your face_

Mitch’s expression softened while he sang the chorus, reaching his hand towards the camera as if to touch Zoey’s cheek. Zoey unconsciously reached her hand out, too, pressing her fingers lightly against the laptop screen.

_Won't somebody please help me with my memories?_

_Can somebody see, yeah, what this world has done to me, yeah?_

_And I know, I know_

_And I say, oh, I say_

_That no matter where you go, no_

_You will always see my face_

Zoey choked back tears when both the music and the smile on Mitch’s face faded away. He returned to his inert state, struggling to talk about one thing or another, but Zoey couldn’t hear a word. She jabbed the left arrow button on David’s keyboard desperately, trying to rewind to catch another glimpse of her father’s face as it once had been, to hear his unmarred voice. David looked at her in confusion, watching as Zoey clutched her face in her hands and watched the video again from the beginning, as if waiting for something.

But the video played on as normal, the heart song a mere memory in Zoey’s head.

Zoey sat motionless on the couch, unable to process what had just occurred. Her father—this _video_ of her father—had sung to her, a message from the past. This was something that had never happened before with Zoey’s powers. When she normally heard a heart song, she was tasked with helping the singer, but she couldn’t help Mitch now. _What could this possibly mean?_

“I’m sorry, Zoey,” David shut the laptop quickly, smiling mournfully at his sister. “I really thought you seeing the entire video would help.”

“No, David… it _did_ help,” Zoey said thoughtfully. She pulled her brother into another hug, this one much more like their normal, fleeting embraces. Bewildered by Zoey’s reaction, David hung around for a few minutes, waiting for a breakdown that never came as Zoey sat rooted to her spot on the couch. Finally, he bowed his head and left, taking his computer and the memory of Mitch with him.

That night, Zoey skipped her routine stop by Aiden’s garage and slept in her own bed, letting her thoughts run in circles around her mind. She _had_ to tell someone about this new development in her power. Normally, she would immediately run to Mo with these kinds of things, but she knew who she _really_ wanted to tell—she just wasn’t sure if she had the strength to tell him. Even still, Zoey resolved to herself that this time, she wouldn't keep the details of her power a secret.

After a fitful THC-free sleep, Zoey awoke the next morning with a vague feeling of determination that urged her to make good on her promise to herself. As Executive Manager of the fourth floor at SPRQ Point, she couldn’t just take a day off, but she _could_ come in a few hours late without penalty. Zoey pulled a dark blue plaid blazer over her grey sweater, with its plain white collar peeking out, and set off for her destination.

He was exactly where she thought he would be, hunched over his desk, looking as if he hadn’t slept in days. His short curls were tousled, as if he had raked his hands through them in frustration more than a few times, and the bags under his eyes had deepened, but Zoey still saw the same Max she had always known behind those deep brown eyes.

He caught sight of her as she walked into the restaurant, meekly approaching his desk with a small wave and two cups of coffee. “Zoey? What are you doing here?” He said, his voice thick with exhaustion. 

“I need to talk to you about something. Is… this a bad time?” Zoey offered the cup with black coffee to Max as a peace offering. She watched his apprehension fade away at the prospect of caffeine, and he accepted the cup gratefully.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks,” he nodded at the coffee. “It’s just… I haven’t really seen you in a while.”

He was right. Zoey’s new lifestyle had given her an easy way to hide from the rest of the world, especially Max, whom she wasn't sure she could face without breaking down completely.

“That’s because I’ve been avoiding you,” she blurted out, wincing at the furrow that formed between Max’s eyebrows. “Well, not _you,_ specifically, but… everyone, I guess. I’ve actually… been getting high a lot.”

Even in his guarded state, Max couldn’t resist smiling at that revelation. “Did my ears just deceive me, or is Zoey Clarke becoming a pothead?” 

Zoey shoved his shoulder lightly and smiled. “It wasn’t the smartest coping mechanism, or the healthiest, I’ll admit. But David came to my apartment last night, and he made me realize that I’ve been more avoidant than normal, which is saying something.”

Zoey steadied herself with both hands on the surface of Max’s desk, summoning the courage to finally say something. He sat with his hands clasped on his chest, his undivided attention focused on her.

“So, uh, I haven’t really… heard a heart song in a while. Since your dad visited, in fact,” Zoey sighed, scanning every crease that appeared in Max’s face at the mention of his father. “But last night, David showed me this video that my dad recorded while he was—” Zoey’s breath hitched in the back of her throat, and Max nodded his understanding, saving her the explanation.

“And, well… he sang to me. In the video,” Zoey explained, biting her cheek as she analyzed the incomprehensible expression on Max’s face. “A heart song.”

“Zo…” Max shook his head in shock, setting his hands on the table before him. “That must have been… difficult to hear.”

“It was,” Zoey admitted. “But it made me realize how much was left unsaid between us.”

Max looked at her with repressed longing, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed in anticipation. 

Zoey met his gaze with the same prolonged stare they had shared the night they had decided to press pause, steeling herself for what she had to say next. “I’m still not ready. It hurts… _so much…_ to not be able to be close to you, but I can’t. But I hope… I hope that me telling you about this helps. I’m trying, Max, I really am.”

Max nodded gravely, letting a shaky sigh escape his chest. “I know,” he gazed up at her, his voice barely a whisper. Zoey reached out her hand and gently laid it on top of his, his touch searing her skin with a painful reminder of what was both so close to her, and yet so torturously far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from “Always See Your Face” by Love.
> 
> Characters belong to Austin Winsberg. Quotes from "Zoey's Extraordinary Dreams" and "Zoey's Extraordinary Return."


	2. Rewind

It was over the next few days, having returned to her more mundane daily routine, that Zoey began to feel the emptiness inside her have a resurgence she hadn’t felt since her nightmares. With nothing to numb her mind, Zoey found that her thoughts raced uncontrollably throughout the day—thinking of her father while she zoned out at her desk at work, thinking of Max while she ate her Chinese takeout at her apartment, and especially thinking about the bizarre lack of over-the-top musical numbers in her life. Zoey hadn’t noticed it as much during her two-week vacation from reality, but she really _hadn’t_ heard a single heart song since Max had sung to his father. She could have just assumed that it was the marijuana slowly turning her brain to mush and dulling the strength of her powers, but after being three days sober, Zoey truly started to feel the songs’ absence. 

Since Max and Mo were constantly working at the restaurant now, Zoey found herself spending large chunks of free time at Maximo’s under the guise of helping Mo with his cocktails. Every time she inevitably stopped by Max’s desk, it took everything in her to not reach for his hand, to not gently lay a hand on his shoulder, to not close the distance between his lips and hers. Just as she longed for Max’s touch, she yearned for him to sing to her, for her to be able to hold that piece of his heart even though she couldn’t hold him. Despite knowing that she couldn’t have the former, she had clung to the idea that she may be able to survive on the latter, at least until she was ready. 

Being around Max felt torturous, even as they carried on with their friendship as cordially as ever. When Zoey would stop by the restaurant after work, telling him about whatever half-brained thing Tobin had shouted across the bullpen or how she suspected Leif was preparing to stage a coup for her job, her resolve would gradually weaken with every single thing Max did. The way he wouldn’t break eye contact as she talked, hanging onto every single word she spoke. How he drummed his fingers lightly on his desk, without even realizing he was doing so. The lines that formed around his eyes when he smiled at her. Zoey made up anecdotes from work after she ran out of things to say, just so she could be around him.

Thankfully, Zoey found a completely appropriate opportunity to stop by again when Mo decided to host another séance for the restaurant. This time, he had managed to wrap Max into the ceremony. Zoey laughed silently to herself as she watched Max reluctantly wave an incense holder in the air, a bored expression painted onto his face. When he knew Mo wasn’t looking, however, Zoey could have sworn she saw the hint of a smile reach the corners of Max’s mouth.

_“Oh, spirits!_ Whitney, Amy, and Aretha, please bless this restaurant with your fabulous starpower!” Mo flitted about the room, burning sage in the air as he went and speaking as if he had an elevated awareness of being. He shot Max an expectant look over his shoulder, provoking an exaggerated eye roll from his business partner.

“Uh, yeah, and ensure that we have… uh, great business sense and a full house on opening night!” Max declared with temperate enthusiasm. It seemed that he was willing to entertain Mo’s eccentric process, but on his terms.

The crowd of onlookers cheered as Mo curtsied grandly in front of the stage, gesturing for Max to follow him. Max scanned the crowd nervously with his eyes and bent forward slightly, bowing his head towards the ground—the picture of humility.

After the séance came to a close and Mo wandered off to tend the bar, Zoey walked up to him and offered to help taste some of his custom cocktails. While Mo prepared her a Mo-garita, Zoey subtly glanced around the restaurant, sneaking glances at Max, who was intensely focused on something at his desk. 

“You and I _both know_ that you’ll just drink whatever is offered to you, so what gives, Zoey?” Mo said accusingly, and Zoey whirled around to face him again.

_“What,_ I can’t help one of my best friends develop his brand without having an ulterior motive?” Zoey crossed her arms innocuously, her eyes betraying her as they darted to the side at the sound of Max sneezing.

Mo shot daggers at her with his eyes. “If that boy so much as _breathes,_ you go on high alert. You are _clearly_ waiting for something.”

Zoey pouted indignantly as she swirled a straw around her Mo-garita before taking a sip and cringing. “Ugh… Mo, this just tastes like straight-up tequila!”

“You Clarkes and your unrefined taste buds… at least Jenna can appreciate my genius.” Mo took a sip from Zoey’s glass and blinked his eyes rapidly, struggling to maintain his composure. “Fine. I’ll add more mixer.” As Zoey reached for the glass one more time, Mo snatched it away quickly. _“Nuh uh._ I’m not letting you have any more after how you behaved last time.”

Zoey huffed with frustration, despite knowing that Mo was saving her from epic humiliation. With getting drunk out of the question, Zoey thought about striking up a conversation with Max. One look at him—hands on his temples as he stared at his computer screen with laserlike focus—convinced Zoey that tonight was maybe not the best night to try provoking a heart song out of Max. Still, there _might_ be another way to satisfy her desire to hear his voice.

Zoey approached Max at his desk and offered him a warm smile. “We meet again,” she grinned, alluding to their previous encounter at one of these events. The tantalizing smirk he offered in response practically stilled the beat of Zoey’s heart.

“Yes, we do. Hey, you’re not gonna hit on me again, are you? Because as much as you undoing the top button of your shirt _really_ did it for me, I don’t think I want to see that ever again,” Max joked, but even though his comment had been sarcastic, Zoey had drunk in the words gratefully.

“Don’t knock my moves. I know I’m smooth,” Zoey tossed her hair over her shoulder dramatically, eliciting a small smile from Max. “No, I mostly just wanted to wish you luck… and to see if you wanted to perhaps join me in a karaoke performance for the ages.”

“Karaoke… like a duet?” Max shifted in his chair, his smile wavering. Zoey wondered if he was thinking about their _last_ duet, because she certainly was. Still, she had to maintain the status quo, which was decidedly still in “pause” territory.

“Yeah. I was thinking we could do ‘Pressure.’ You know, for old time’s sake,” Zoey smiled, sitting on the edge of Max’s desk and absentmindedly twisting the ring on her right hand. It wouldn’t be the same as him singing a love song to her, but if Max’s role in the whole “Pressure” debacle hadn’t been rooted in love, she didn’t know what was. And she _so_ longed to hear him sing again.

Max gaped at Zoey as if unsure what to respond, but his mouth seemingly decided for him. “Okay.” He rose from his chair slowly as Zoey slid off the desk, taking a moment to appreciate how close they were standing. Max swallowed nervously and then gestured in front of him as if to tell Zoey to lead the way. They approached the stage together, earning them both a cocked eyebrow from Mo. 

When the song started playing, Zoey took the first two lines, recalling how she had utterly embarrassed herself in front of Joan, Leif, and Danny Michael Davis himself. 

_“You have to learn to pace yourself. Pressure. You’re just like everybody else. Pressure.”_

After finishing her lines, Zoey glanced over at Max, who had a half-hearted grip on the microphone in front of him. When he was supposed to sing his lines, he stood rooted to the spot and glanced over at Zoey with a bewildered expression on his face.

_“I can’t,”_ he whispered softly, walking off the stage and out of the restaurant. 

Zoey watched as he left, her heart breaking with every step he took away from her. While Mo’s crowd of friends murmured their confusion, Zoey replaced her microphone in its stand and ran after Max. 

She found him in the alley outside, holding a hand to his head like he had a bad headache. 

“Max…” 

“I’m sorry, Zo, I just…” Max met her eyes, and Zoey could see from the way that his eyebrows were knitted together that she had crossed a line. “That song took me back to a very… visceral moment.”

Zoey’s mind raced as she tried to come up with an excuse for choosing the song, for proposing karaoke in the first place—but she was terrible at lying on her feet. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, I know… it’s not your fault,” Max spoke softly, taking a cautious step closer to Zoey. “But whatever that was… I can’t do it right now. It’s too… too _real.”_

Zoey nodded quickly, thinking to herself how she had been _so close_ to hearing his voice, his voice singing just one of the many songs that had endeared him to her… and she had ruined it.

“Look, uh… I’d better get back to work.” Max set a hand on Zoey’s shoulder but pulled it away almost immediately, as if the contact had sent an electric shock through his spine. “I…” He let the sentence dangle unfinished in the air and walked away. 

Zoey watched as he left, her heart sinking. Though all she wanted at that moment was to drink one or five of Mo’s cocktails, she resolved to not let herself go off the deep end again and walked away from the restaurant.

Zoey made it back to her apartment and immediately slumped onto the couch, checking her phone for the time. Nine-thirty. Far too early for her to drift off to sleep, but too late to do anything else even remotely productive. Though it felt like near-sacrilege, she decided to watch a movie alone, deciding that she could imagine Max there next to her, as if nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

Picking the movie was easy—Zoey only had five or so options, her own collection of movies being much smaller than Max’s, which is why he usually provided the entertainment on Movie Night. After a long minute of deciding between _The Notebook_ and _Zodiac,_ Zoey finally settled on the romantic comedy. Admittedly, she had never seen the movie (while having watched the serial killer thriller a dozen times), but she just felt in the mood for something lighter. Little did she know how much the movie would affect her.

_“What do you want? What do you want?”_

_“It’s not that simple…”_

_“What do you want? Damn it, what do you want?”_

Mo suddenly walked into the apartment without warning, something they had both started to do with greater frequency. “What are you watching, Red? _Oh no…”_ he pointed a finger at the screen. “That bad, huh?”

Zoey peered up at Mo through tear-filled eyes, mascara running down her face. Mo cringed at the sight, quickly walking over to sit at a distance from Zoey on the couch.

_“It’s so stupid…_ they’re _obviously_ meant to be, but they just can’t figure it out.” Zoey cried into the arm of her sweatshirt, missing the way Mo’s eyes widened and his lips pursed at the irony of her comment.

“Oh, Zoey, we can’t possibly unpack _all_ of this,” Mo said pointedly, hesitating before reaching out to pat Zoey’s head in an attempt to comfort her. Zoey emerged from the crook of her arm and reached for the tissue box on her coffee table, pulling out four sheets and piling them up next to her on the couch. Just as she was about to respond to Mo’s brazen remark, Zoey’s attention was drawn back to the screen. Ryan Gosling’s character watched as his lover drove off, fisting his hair in tortured pain and anger when he started to sing.

“Huh. I didn’t know that _The Notebook_ was a musical,” Zoey mused, watching curiously as Ryan Gosling sang directly into the camera.

_“But look at our life now. All tattered and torn. We fuss and we fight and delight in the tears that we cry until dawn,”_ he belted out, kicking the dirt in frustration.

“A _musical?_ Girl, I think those powers are getting to your head,” Mo chided her with a disapproving shake of his head, which only confused Zoey.

“What do you mean, Mo? Ryan Gosling is singing right now!” 

“No, Zoey, that’s _La La Land,”_ Mo let out a sharp laugh. “I know you’re musically challenged but I figured after all those movies you and Max watch that you’d be a little more adept in the area of cinema.”

Zoey took a moment to consider what exactly was happening. She glanced back at the screen to confirm that, yes, Ryan Gosling was still singing. Mo, however, looked completely unfazed.

“Mo, I don’t know if you’ll believe this, but… I think I’m hearing a heart song right now,” Zoey peered up at him hopefully.

Mo groaned. “Now what could I _possibly_ be warbling about to you right this second? My mind is emptier than I know your refrigerator is right now.”

“Okay one, _ouch._ And two, _you’re_ not the one singing,” Zoey gestured with both hands at the television.

“I’m sorry, you’re telling me that a _movie character_ is singing a heart song to you? How does that make _any_ sense at all, Zo White?”

Zoey nodded her head rapidly. “I swear. Something similar happened the other day, too. I was watching this video my dad recorded before he— anyway, I was watching the video when he started _singing to me.”_

Mo propped his elbow on the back of the couch and rested his head on his fist, giving Zoey more attention than he probably ever had. “This is _interesting._ So you can hear videos… past versions of people… sing you heart songs?”

Zoey nodded. “I… guess. The weird part is, I haven’t heard a heart song in the present in weeks. It’s almost like… my powers are glitching again. But over a longer period of time.”

“This is bizarre, even for you, Zoey.” Mo sighed. “Any idea what might be causing this particular glitch?”

Zoey tried to think over the possibilities but came up empty, either because she didn’t have the answer yet or because she didn’t _want_ to have the answer already. “I’m not sure,” she replied, which was half true. The one thing Zoey _was_ sure of was that if this glitch operated like she thought it did, there might be certain advantages to it.

✷ ✷ ✷

The next afternoon, Zoey visited her mother for the first time in a few weeks, apologizing profusely upon her entrance.

“Oh, Zoey…” Maggie wrapped her daughter in a warm hug when Zoey finally stepped inside the Clarke home again. Though Maggie’s voice was tinged with pity, which made Zoey feel smaller and more vulnerable than normal, she clung to her mother’s embrace, shutting her eyes tightly.

“Sweetie, how are you feeling?” Maggie asked, rubbing her hand comfortingly on her daughter’s back. Zoey pulled away from the embrace and shifted her weight onto the balls of her feet.

“I’ve kind of been… in a rut lately,” Zoey admitted truthfully, which made her cheeks flush in embarrassment. “So I was thinking… maybe we could watch some home movies together? To relive some of the good times.”

Maggie smiled brightly, the kind lines on her face shining. “That sounds like a lovely idea. Here, let’s go look through your dad’s collection.”

Per his motto of _‘bigger moments, bigger memories,’_ Mitch had made sure every Clarke family function was recorded on his video camera, even after Zoey insisted he start using his phone camera. He compiled the moments onto CDs with Zoey’s help, keeping them organized by date on a shelf by the television. Zoey stood behind her mother as she picked through the disks, craning her neck hopefully.

“How about this one?” Maggie smiled, holding a disk up to Zoey. “It’s from your high school graduation.”

Zoey shook her head a little harder than she had intended to. “No. I mean, uh, I’d rather watch something more recent. Something more fresh in my mind, you know?” Of course, a more recent video was also more likely to include a certain someone.

Maggie nodded her understanding and floated her hand over to the end of the disk collection, thumbing through the last few CD cases until she retrieved one. “How about this? Christmas two years ago.” She sighed thoughtfully as she passed her thumb over the plastic case, ruminating on its contents.

“Perfect,” Zoey smiled, placing a comforting hand on her mother’s shoulder. That was Mitch’s last Christmas prior to his diagnosis, making the memory bittersweet. She took the disk from her mother and slid it into the DVD player, turning the TV on with a press of the remote and taking a seat on the couch. Maggie sat next to Zoey, leaving an empty space on her left where Mitch used to sit.

The video began with a shot panning over the Clarkes’ Christmas tree, which had been meticulously decorated with a variety of ornaments, ribbons, and lights. Zoey smiled as she saw some ornaments she had handmade as a child, Maggie having hung them on the tree every year since. Zoey heard her brother’s voice behind the camera as it panned over to Maggie and Mitch, who were sitting next to each other on the couch clutching mugs of Maggie’s famous hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. 

Zoey noticed her mother’s breath catch in her throat at the sight of Mitch and took her hand supportively. “You doing okay?”

Maggie nodded without breaking her focus from the screen but did not hesitate to hide the tears that slipped from her eyes. “Yes, it just… still feels a little surreal. Seeing him so alive,” She chuckled as she watched her husband kiss her cheek and wrap an arm around her waist. “This is such a beautiful moment. I think you picked the right video.”

Zoey smiled and then felt her lips part slightly as the video panned across the room to her and Max, apparently locked in a heated argument. She heard David laugh from behind the camera as he approached them, stopping just a few feet away so that Zoey and Max filled the screen.

“Star Trek is _not_ better than Star Wars!” Zoey huffed out, earning a delighted grin from Max. 

“Oh, yeah? Then how come Star Trek invented an entire _language_ that people can actually study?” Max crossed his arms in amusement.

“Anyone who wastes their time studying _Klingon_ of all things does not qualify as a functioning member of society.” Zoey rolled her eyes.

“Hey _nerds,_ nobody cares which is better. They’re both boring,” David declared from behind the camera. Zoey and Max both turned to face him almost immediately, their matching glares causing him to take a step back with the camera. “Okay, geez, never mind.” 

With the camera still decidedly focused on Zoey and Max, present-day Zoey held her breath as she waited in anticipation for _something, anything._ She didn’t have to wait long before Past Max gazed longingly at Past Zoey before starting to sing. 

_Though I've tried before to tell her_

_Of the feelings I have for her in my heart_

_Every time that I come near her_

_I just lose my nerve as I've done from the start_

Zoey’s heart leapt at the familiar sound of Max’s voice. Her eyes were glued to the screen, relishing in the words he was singing to _her._

_Every little thing she does is magic_

_Everything she do just turns me on_

_Even though my life before was tragic_

_Now I know my love for her goes on_

Past Max danced around Zoey, unable to tear his eyes away from her. Even as Past Zoey faced the camera, apparently carrying on a conversation with David and oblivious to the performance happening around her, Max serenaded her with his entire chest.

_Do I have to tell the story_

_Of a thousand rainy days since we first met?_

_It's a big enough umbrella_

_But it's always me that ends up getting wet_

_Every little thing she does is magic_

_Everything she do just turns me on_

_Even though my life before was tragic_

_Now I know my love for her goes on_

Zoey felt heat blossom in her cheeks and her heartbeat quicken while taking in the performance, able to see the part of Max’s heart that had been so out of reach to her in recent weeks. She let it hit her that this was nearly two years ago—months before she had heard Max sing “I Think I Love You” to her. The thought tickled her brain pleasantly. It seemed that Max’s feelings for her had gone back further and deeper than she had thought.

“Zoey?” Maggie snapped Zoey back into reality, breaking her concentration from the screen. She glanced at her mother and then back at the screen, but it seemed that the moment had passed, David’s camera now pointed at Emily up close as he engaged his wife in a conversation.

“Huh?” Zoey blinked her eyes rapidly, still enraptured by the memory of Max singing to her.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for well over a minute, but I guess you were distracted by something… or _someone,”_ Maggie winked.

_“Mom!”_ Zoey huffed disgruntledly.

“I’m just saying,” Maggie raised her arms defensively. “I know you both decided— _very_ maturely, I might add—to pause your relationship, but what I just saw was you not being able to take your eyes off Max.”

“That’s not—” Zoey sighed. “However I may feel about Max doesn’t matter right now when I still can’t wake up in the morning without immediately thinking of Dad.”

“Well, have you tried talking to Max about how you’re feeling?” Maggie’s suggestion was well-intentioned, but Zoey shook her head.

“No, Max hasn’t been through this. He could never _understand._ And besides, look what grief did to Simon and Jessica’s relationship. I can’t give in to my feelings for Max now just for us to be torn apart.”

“Sweetie…” Maggie placed a hand on Zoey’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “You and Max are not Simon and Jessica. _But,_ if you can’t allow yourself to open up to Max, maybe it is best that you keep your distance for now.”

Zoey nodded vigorously, shutting her eyes for a prolonged moment to stop the tears she felt boiling inside. “I, uh… should probably get going. But… would it be okay if I took some of our home movies back to my place?”

Maggie smiled. “Of course.”

Before Zoey left her mother’s house, she gathered up every disk from the past five and a half years in her arms and held them close to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from “Pressure” by Billy Joel, “Hold Me Now” by Thompson Twins, and “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” by The Police.


	3. Fast Backward

“Should I tell him?” Zoey asked Mo while twirling her pad see ew around her chopsticks. Much like in the early days of her power, Zoey had asked him to meet her in the park for lunch so she could tell him about the latest updates. Ever since she had left her mother’s house the evening before, not a minute had passed without the thought of Max’s heart song drifting into her mind.

Mo narrowed his eyes at her. “Why is this even a question? The last time Max sang you a heart song and you didn’t tell him about it, you ended up breaking up two days later.”

 _“Pause,”_ Zoey mumbled under her breath and then continued, “And that’s not why we even—I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t the right time for us.”

“Oh, I won’t deny that. You _clearly_ have a lot to work through. But isn’t the fact that you _wouldn’t_ open up to Max about your powers evidence of that?” Mo smirked, seemingly having settled the issue in his mind.

Zoey sighed indignantly, unwilling to give in so easily. “Okay, fine, but it’s not like he _just_ sang to me. It technically happened two years ago.”

“Do you _want_ to work on your communication or not, Zoey?” Mo eyed her disapprovingly. 

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Zoey narrowed her eyes at Mo, who sipped from his straw with an innocent shrug. "Anyway, what’s even the point of telling him when I made it clear to Max that I need more time? It just feels cruel.”

“No, what feels cruel is _you_ having a direct line to Max’s love for you whenever you want, while all the boy gets from you is flakiness and painfully awkward conversations.” Zoey shot Mo an annoyed look. “Oh, please, Zoey, if he wasn’t madly in love with you it’d be weird how willing he is to listen to your boring stories from work.”

Zoey let out a sharp, derisive laugh, pondering over the conversations she and Max had had in the past few days. Her story about Tobin bringing an ice sculpture to work was _not_ boring.

 _“Tell him,”_ Mo insisted.

✷ ✷ ✷

 _“Hey…_ Maxwell.” Zoey drew out the first word as she approached Max’s desk slowly. After lunch with Mo, she had spent the rest of her day weighing the pros and cons of telling Max about his past self’s heart song. The following morning, she had decided it couldn’t hurt to subtly incorporate the matter into a casual chat—after all, what was the worst that could happen?

Max glanced up from his papers with a soft smile, sending Zoey’s heartbeat into a tailspin. “Hey, Zo.” They hadn’t spoken since the karaoke incident at Mo’s séance the other night, and despite the placid expression on Max’s face, Zoey could see that his shoulders were more rigid than normal.

“So, uh, how’s the business going, you… business guy?” Zoey lightly punched his shoulder, eager to ease the tension. _So much for casual._

Max sighed heavily. “Mo and I are still feeling out some different investors, so it’s an uphill battle. But hey, at least it means I’m not spending the entire day sitting at this desk.”

Zoey nodded distractedly, her attention focused on how _good_ Max looked in his simple gray button-down and dark suit jacket. _“Yeah, I’m sure the investors would love to feel you out,”_ she mumbled under her breath.

“What?” Max leaned forward, and Zoey shook the thought from her mind.

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted to get coffee. You know, you and me. Zoey and Max getting coffee. As an apology for the whole karaoke thing.” Zoey realized a little too late that she had been rambling. Luckily, Max did not look at all opposed to the idea.

“Sure.” Max smiled and rose from his seat, giving Zoey a full look at his dapper ensemble. Just as she decided that it should be illegal for someone to look that devastatingly handsome, Max’s voice snapped her back into reality. “Shall we?”

After paying a random kid who was loitering outside the Golden Gate Grind to buy their coffees for them—they still hadn’t set foot inside since Max’s breakup with Autumn—Zoey and Max strolled down the streets of San Francisco in comfortable silence, sipping their drinks.

Right as Zoey was definitely, _totally_ going to tell Max about the heart song she had heard him sing and prove Mo wrong, she saw a relaxed smile spread across Max’s face. A smile that Zoey found very distracting and charming and that she couldn’t _not_ ask about.

“What’s got you looking all chipper?” Zoey asked, nudging Max with her shoulder.

“Just enjoying the company,” he sent a knee-buckling grin her way, and Zoey wondered how just one facial expression could have such a resounding effect on her. “I know it was kind of weird at first after we put things on pause, and then karaoke was a little too much too fast, but I missed hanging out with my best friend.”

Zoey smiled adoringly. “Me too,” she replied in earnest, though just how _much_ she had missed hanging out with Max remained locked away safely in her brain. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around the crook of Max’s elbow as they continued walking, taking note of how naturally he fell into step beside her. Though ultimately an innocuous reminder of how close their friendship had been, the gesture felt intimate and meaningful. Zoey enjoyed the close contact between their bodies as they continued walking, her mind drifting away from its previous mission without a second thought. 

“You would _not_ believe what they did to the Food Bar this week.”

✷ ✷ ✷

The workday safely behind her as she closed the door to her apartment, Zoey collapsed onto her couch gratefully, savoring the feeling of weightlessness that came as she let her body sink into the cushions. An uncomfortable feeling had twisted Zoey’s stomach while at SPRQ Point that day, but she didn’t know how to make heads or tails of it.

While she was writing a Slack message to Danny Michael Davis updating him on the status of the Chirp, she had noticed Simon and Tatiana step off the elevator together. Her eyes had followed them curiously as they walked, hand in hand, to Simon’s office, pausing outside to share a brief kiss before Tatiana left. Zoey’s stomach had lurched, which was strange, because she wasn’t _jealous._ At least, she didn’t think she was jealous—sure, she occasionally made the accidental innuendo while speaking with Simon, but whatever feelings she had felt for him had faded.

Then _why_ had seeing Simon and Tatiana together, looking so blissfully happy, made Zoey feel like she had appendicitis?

Unsure how to reconcile her confusing feelings, Zoey turned to the one constant in her life. She reached for the towering pile of CDs on her coffee table and began flipping through the cases, reading the descriptions that had been carefully scrawled on by Mitch. _Clarke Family Barbecue 2016. Game Night 9/18/17. Zoey’s 28th Birthday._

“Hmm…” Zoey grabbed the last disc, opening it and sliding it into her DVD player. Her twenty-eighth birthday was the last she ever celebrated with her father pre-PSP. 

From the intermittent sounds of his laughter that rang across the screen, it appeared that Mitch was behind the camera this time. Zoey clung to the sound, missing the way her father had laughed so uproariously. 

It appeared that she was about to blow the candles out on her cake, a three-layer chocolate delicacy that Maggie had made for Zoey’s birthday every year since she turned ten. She was seated at the head of the dining table, her face illuminated by the horde of candles scattered across the cake—twenty-nine, one for every year, and an extra one that Mitch always added for good luck. The crowd was small, with Mitch behind the camera, Maggie with her hands resting comfortably on Zoey’s left shoulder, David and Emily standing to her right, and Max standing behind her, a goofy grin stretched onto his face.

After they finished singing “Happy Birthday” completely off-key, Max leaned down to whisper something in Zoey’s ear before she made her wish. Zoey giggled in response, her eyes flitting up to meet Max’s in a playful expression before he stepped back and shrugged.

A look of determination on her face, Zoey leaned forward to blow out the candles, successfully snuffing all the flames on her first try. While her family started passing around plates, Max gazed at Zoey with an expression that could only be described as lovestruck. As Maggie cut into the cake with a big kitchen knife, Max started to sing—present-day Zoey relaxing immediately at the sound of his voice.

_Forty days and forty nights_

_I waited for a girl like you_

_To come and save my life_

_All the days I waited for you_

_You know the ones who said_

_I'd never find someone like you_

Both unable and unwilling to tear her eyes away from the video, Zoey felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat. Max—or, at least, this past version of Max—was singing her another love song. She felt a familiar cloud of euphoria settle over her as she watched Max sing and dance around her in the video while she and her family ate their cake, completely oblivious.

_'Cause you are out of my league_

_All the things I believe_

_You are just the right kind_

_Yeah, you are more than just a dream_

_You are out of my league_

_Got my heartbeat racing_

_If I die don't wake me_

_'Cause you are more than just a dream_

Though admittedly they were what exactly Zoey had been searching for in the videos, she hadn’t expected it to be so easy to find Max’s heart songs. But if these videos were any indication, they were everywhere—in every glance he ever sent her, in every word that passed his lips, in every laugh they shared. His love was ever-present, more dependable than the sun rising in the morning.

Zoey suddenly turned off the television, the same uneasy feeling she had felt earlier twisting her stomach once more. The way she and Max had strolled down the streets of San Francisco earlier so casually, so naturally, like it made perfect sense—it did, didn’t it? He was the answer. He could fix everything.

The only thing Zoey could think to do at that moment was to dial his number on her phone.

“Max!”

“Is everything okay?” Max’s tone was urgent, and Zoey realized that she might have said his name a little too enthusiastically. 

“Uh… yes. Yes it is.” Zoey cleared her throat. “Could you… could you, uh, come over right now? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

A brief pause. “Sure, I’ll be there in fifteen.” 

Zoey wrung her hands nervously after hanging up the phone. Her actions being purely driven by spontaneity, she had no idea what the ‘something’ she supposedly wanted to talk to Max about was. Calling him had been a knee-jerk response to hearing the heart song, almost instinctual. Zoey could only hope that her mouth could invent some words that would make everything okay when Max arrived.

Sometime soon, there were two quick knocks on her door. If Zoey had checked the time, she would have seen that only twelve minutes had passed. Unfortunately, in that time, she had not figured out what she wanted to say to Max. The lack of concrete planning worried her, but Zoey had no other option—he was here, right outside her door.

Zoey walked up to the door with purpose, dramatically flinging it open to reveal Max on the other side.

“Hey. Are you alright? You sounded kind of agitated on the phone,” Max spoke with marked concern, his voice a soothing blanket that she wanted to wrap around herself forever.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m… A-okay!” Zoey said with put-on enthusiasm as she walked over to the couch and took a seat, with Max following right behind her. “So, uh, how’d the meeting with the investors go?”

Max sighed, tensely running a hand through his hair. “Definitely not as well as it should have? I mean, Mo and I finally find people who believe in our vision, and the first thing they want to do is change the name of the restaurant.”

 _“What?_ But Maximo’s is perfect! It’s whimsical _and_ it’s a combination of both your names!” Zoey replied passionately.

“I _know!”_ Max said with a similar level of passion, shaking his head. He paused and took a deep breath, looking over at Zoey with those kind brown eyes of his. “So, uh, what did you want to talk to me about?”

_Tell him._

Mo’s words flashed into her mind urgently, and with no other plan in mind, she decided to go through with what she had so skillfully avoided the entire day. 

“Remember how I told you about my dad’s heart song? The one I heard him sing in a video?” Max nodded. “Okay, well, I wanted to tell you this not to put you in an uncomfortable position or anything especially since this is still on pause but because I’m trying to be a better communicator and—”

“Zo, it’s fine,” Max murmured, easing Zoey’s racing mind. She took a deep breath.

“So, after Ryan Gosling sang to me, I decided to watch some old family movies. For research purposes. And in a video from Christmas two years ago, _you_ sang to me.”

 _“Ryan Gosling sang to you?”_ Max asked in disbelief.

 _“Max!”_ Zoey said admonishingly.

“Okay, so I guess we’re just going to skip over that,” Max deadpanned. “What, uh, what did I sing to you?”

Zoey smiled. “It was really sweet, actually. ‘Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic’ by The Police. I looked it up when I got home,” she explained.

Max’s eyes widened. “Another love song, huh?”

“Not just one,” Zoey spoke in a voice just above a whisper, watching as Max’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You also sang to me in a video from my twenty-eighth birthday party.”

Taking in her words, Max sat silently, wearing an expression that was both wistful and perplexed. “Zoey… why are you telling me this?”

The answer that had eluded her at SPRQ Point and after hearing the second heart song suddenly materialized in Zoey’s mind. Max loved her—they could be together, and Zoey would finally be happy. She repeated the thought in her mind several times over, convincing herself that she had just solved all of her problems.

“Well, the point of my power is to help the people who sing to me. We’re two love songs deep, and it’s clear that the universe is pointing me towards you,” Zoey leaned in slowly, her lips mere inches from Max’s when he set both hands on her shoulders in a pacifying gesture.

 _“Zoey…”_ Max said in a measured tone. Their faces were so close that she could feel his breath when he spoke. “What are you doing?”

“I’m _helping_ you. Just like my powers obviously want me to.” Zoey’s eyes flicked down to Max’s lips, which had fallen into a slight frown.

“Your powers?” Max paused. “What about you, Zoey? What do _you_ want?”

The four words hit Zoey squarely in the chest and confronted her with an uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty. Four syllables—so simple, so straightforward. Yet, Zoey felt an overwhelming sense of panic course through her as she sat there dumbfounded, truly unsure how to reply.

“I— I want to help. I want to fix this. _Us.”_ Zoey pleaded with Max, taking his hands in hers as she stared at him with the full force of desperation in her eyes.

“Zoey,” Max said again, her resolve wavering every time her name passed his lips. He squeezed her hands where they lay, intertwined in his, and spoke softly, like he was dancing around her emotions. “You know how I feel about you. And I want to be with you, when the time is right. But, honestly, I feel like our pause happened for a reason.”

“I _know,_ but I’m ready now. I want to be happy. I want _you_ to be happy,” Zoey insisted. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to be with me just for my sake. That’s not what I want. When the time is right, when we _both_ want to do this,” He gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips lightly grazing her earlobe and sending a shiver down Zoey’s spine, “Then I’ll be the happiest person alive. But I’m not unhappy now—just happy in a different way.”

Completely and utterly speechless, Zoey inexplicably felt the twisting feeling in her stomach reappear. She bit her lip, gently pulling her hands away from Max’s and meeting his eyes in a stalemate. Max pulled away first, staring at his lap briefly before looking up again at Zoey.

Without another word, Max smiled timidly as he rose from the couch, his eyes tinged with regret. Zoey followed him mindlessly as he walked towards the door, his steps slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to leave. After the drawn-out journey from the couch to Zoey’s front door, Max turned around and placed his hands on her shoulders, pressing his lips to Zoey’s forehead like he had so many times before.

But as Zoey stepped into the hallway and watched him descend the stairs, she was left with the sinking feeling that unless she figured something out, and _soon,_ he might slip away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from “Out Of My League” by Fitz and the Tantrums.
> 
> Comments and feedback always appreciated!! Currently feeling a twisting in my stomach after writing this, and the angst is nowhere near over.


	4. Buffering...

“It’s clear that the universe is pointing me towards you.”

The words echoed in Max’s mind from the moment they left Zoey’s lips. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to ponder over what they meant before she leaned in closer to him with purpose, her eyelids flitting shut. For one mind-numbingly naïve moment, he wondered if this was _it—_ if he and Zoey could be together, for good. In that moment, he wanted so badly to give in, to capture Zoey’s lips with his own and embrace the woman he loved. As abruptly as the thought had entered his mind, it vanished, their faces dangerously close.

Max steeled himself and laid his hands on Zoey’s shoulders—not pushing her back, but keeping her face a safe distance from his. Her eyes flickered with confusion as he sucked in a long breath.

 _“Zoey…”_ he searched her eyes for some kind of sign, for any indication that she was here with him, but found nothing. “What are you doing?”

“I’m _helping_ you. Just like my powers obviously want me to,” Zoey flicked her eyes down to his lips and back up to his eyes, completely oblivious to how her words had felt like a dagger to his chest.

 _Zoey’s powers…_ It had been months since she had told him about them, and though Max would never admit it out loud, he still wasn’t any more okay with them than he was when Zoey revealed that had set him up with Autumn only after hearing him sing to her. He thought he did a pretty good job masking the deep insecurity that had firmly taken root in him since he found out about the powers, but he couldn’t help the hurt that creeped into his voice as he confronted her.

“Your powers?” he paused, wondering how much of his and Zoey’s connection had ever been real and how much had been her powers. “What about you, Zoey? What do _you_ want?”

“I— I want to help. I want to fix this. _Us,”_ She took his hands in hers desperately, meeting his eyes with a fervor that almost made him want to believe she was telling the truth. Still, he felt unsettled by the implication that Zoey was _helping him_ by abruptly pressing “play” on their relationship. _Did she only want him for his sake?_ Max knew he was being selfish, and he would normally do whatever Zoey wanted him to at the drop of a hat, but he needed her to want to be with him because _she wanted to—_ not just because of the inherent power imbalance in their relationship, but because he loved her. He would never want her to feel trapped with him.

“Zoey,” he said again, squeezing her hands gingerly and searching for the right words. “You know how I feel about you. And I want to be with you, when the time is right. But, honestly, I feel like our pause happened for a reason.”

Her eyebrows furrowed impatiently, and Max wondered if he was _really_ doing the right thing. “I _know,_ but I’m ready now. I want to be happy. I want _you_ to be happy,” Zoey persisted, her grip on his hands tightening desperately as if she was sure he would let go forever. Powerless to her touch, Max knew he never would.

Max summoned all of the honesty inside him to placate her. “I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to be with me just for my sake. That’s not what I want. When the time is right, when we _both_ want to do this,” he reached his hand up to her face and tucked a curl behind her ear, keeping his other hand firmly intertwined with hers, “Then I’ll be the happiest person alive. But I’m not unhappy now—just happy in a different way.”

He had told her the truth. He wasn’t unhappy now, not because of Zoey. When they had strolled around San Francisco earlier that morning, sipping their coffee, he felt like he had his best friend back after a few weeks of painful disconnect. Still, his stomach dropped when she pulled her hands away from his. Their stares not moving an inch off each other, Max felt as though he might lose all resolve if he continued gazing into Zoey’s eyes. He looked down at his lap, breaking the contact briefly before meeting her eyes once more.

With the heavy air of silence hanging around them, Max decided that him staying any longer could only make things worse. He offered what little he could in the way of smiles as he stood up from the couch, heading towards the door with as much purpose as he could muster and hearing Zoey follow him. When he reached the door, he hesitated and decided that he couldn’t just leave her like this. He turned around and gave her a kiss on the forehead, hands on her shoulders. A goodbye—for now.

Max walked away from Zoey’s apartment with his eyes straight ahead, knowing that if he looked back, he might not be able to ever leave.

✷ ✷ ✷

After Max finally disappeared out of view, Zoey rushed back into her apartment and collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in the mattress and silently screaming to herself. _What had she done?_ Their conversation hadn’t been inherently uncomfortable—in fact, the cadence with which they had both spoken closely resembled many of the conversations she and Max had shared in the months since her father’s death—but Zoey felt that with every additional word she uttered, Max had added another brick to the wall between them.

And she had tried to _kiss him._ Zoey fisted the fabric of her comforter in both hands in frustration as she mulled over the moment. How could her emotions have betrayed her like that when she _still_ had no idea how to verbalize what it was that she wanted from Max? When he had explicitly asked her, Zoey had made up a half-witted response: she wanted to _fix them._ She wanted to make him _happy._ Both of which were true, but neither of which revealed anything about how _Zoey_ felt. If she was being honest with herself, that was a question which she could not answer. She had no business trying to pull Max back into her embrace in her indecisive state.

Without even bothering to pull a blanket around her, Zoey lay in her prone position and begged for sleep to overtake her. The request proved to be futile, as Zoey lay awake for hours running the night’s events over and over again in her mind.

When she finally awoke the next morning, Zoey wasn’t sure how long she had even managed to sleep. She moved robotically around her apartment, pulling off yesterday’s clothes and replacing them with a different combination of blazer and sweater, brushing her teeth in a stunted rhythm, tugging her hair back into an uninspiring ponytail.

Zoey walked into SPRQ Point with one destination in mind. She marched up to Simon’s office with purpose and tapped on the sliding glass door, which was slightly ajar. He held up a finger and continued his phone conversation. The twisting in her stomach emerged anew.

“Yep, I… yep. Sounds good! So eight at your place, then? Alright. Can’t wait.” He hung up the phone and then flashed a smile so happy and bright at Zoey that she could have walked right up to him and ripped it off his face. “Zoey! How are you?”

“Suboptimal.” Zoey huffed as she took a seat in the chair in front of Simon’s desk. She took note of the small box of chocolates next to his keyboard and raised an eyebrow at them. “Chocolates, huh? Got a secret admirer?”

Simon chuckled, shaking his head giddily. “Tatiana got them for me.”

 _“Tatiana!”_ Zoey said, her voice noticeably higher-pitched than normal. “How’s my favorite reporter doing, anyway?”

“She’s great,” Simon smiled, leaning in conspiratorially. “Actually, we’ve been going out for a few weeks now. It’s still new, so I wasn’t sure whether to tell you, but I feel lighter than I have in a long while.”

Zoey blinked heavily, wrestling with her stomach for control. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out the words that had hummed in the back of her mind for days. “How are you so happy?”

Simon tilted his head, assessing her with a perplexed grin on his face. “Zoey? Are you alright?”

“No, I am _not_ alright.” Zoey propped her elbows on Simon’s desk and laid her face on the heels of her hands. “Can I… talk to you about Max? Would that be weird?”

“Sure, you can,” Simon said, clasping his hands on his lap and leaning back in his chair slightly. “And honestly, Zoey, I think I’m well past the point where I feel weird about you and Max, so if _you_ don’t think it’s weird, then I’m game.”

“Okay,” Zoey exhaled heavily, searching the words to describe everything she had learned from her powers without _revealing_ them to Simon. “So, as you know… Max and I decided to put things on pause a few weeks ago. Because I needed _—need—_ more time. And he’s been giving me that, and space, but I was watching a bunch of old family videos the other day, and I could just… see his feelings for me written all over his face. He really loves me, always has. So I thought to myself, if I just let him love me, if I let myself be with him, that would fix everything. But then I told him that, and he turned me down.”

Simon exhaled, tapping his fingers together contemplatively before pointing his index fingers in her direction. “Zoey, I think a lot of the time we just want to be there for the ones we love… you love him, right?”

Zoey’s eyes widened and she felt a blush creep up her neck. “I have not officially labeled those feelings… out loud… yet.”

Simon chuckled. “Okay. Well, to me it sounds like you want being with Max to fix _you_ rather than for you to fix… being with him. If that… makes sense.”

Zoey twisted her face up in confusion. “Care to elaborate?”

Simon leaned forward, resting his forearms on the glass surface of his desk. “Well, when you were having those nightmares that you told me about, it sounded like you didn’t really want to talk with Max about them. I think you need to figure that out for yourself before you dive into anything with him.” Simon smiled. “Hell, when I was at my lowest point, I thought being with Jessica, or… _you_ might pull me out of the hole I was in, but I realized I had to pull _myself_ out first before I pulled anyone else down with me.”

Zoey nodded for Simon to continue, still waiting for him to give her the absolute answer to her problems.

“As much as you may want to, you can’t just choose for everything to be okay again. Happiness isn’t a choice just as much as depression isn’t.”

“So… I just have to wait for myself to feel better?” Zoey groaned impatiently.

“You could. You could sit with your grief, really process it, take your time. But even though you can’t flip a switch that’ll make it all go away, you _can_ decide whether you’re ready or willing to talk about it. Like we are now,” Simon smiled.

Zoey froze. “Wow. You really… have a way with words, you know that?”

Simon smiled. “Well, it’s in my job description.” He reached a comforting hand across his desk to rub Zoey’s shoulder.

Zoey offered Simon a lopsided smile and a quiet ‘thank you’ as she rose from her chair and left his office. In the few dozen steps she took from Simon’s office to hers, Zoey still had not decided whether she _was_ ready or willing to talk about her grief with Max. As she settled into the comfortable chair behind her desk, Zoey grabbed the photograph of her and her father going fishing and gazed at it intently.

“Hey, Dad... I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are…” Zoey didn’t normally talk to pictures of her father, but if she was going to discuss her grief with anyone that wasn’t Simon, it would have to be him. Zoey looked up from the photograph and envisioned Mitch sitting on one of the chairs in front of her desk. 

“Hey, kiddo,” he smiled and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Wow, are these made out of cardboard or something?”

Zoey giggled quietly to herself as she imagined how the scene would unfold before her. Though it had been nearly three months since his passing, she still saw her father vividly wherever she went and could summon him into a room with just her mind. Her visions had grown less lucid, however, and she struggled more and more to picture his corporeal form. Zoey was terrified that one day, she wouldn’t be able to remember him at all, his voice a mere echo in her mind. 

She inhaled deeply. “I’m scared, Dad. That if I don’t force myself to keep you in my mind every second of every day, that if I let go even a little bit… you'll be gone forever.”

“Don’t be scared, Zoey. If you ever want to see me, all you have to do is look in here,” Mitch rose from his chair, taking slow strides and reaching his hand out to rest on her rapidly-beating heart. Zoey gasped when she didn’t feel her father’s touch, her eyes darting up to remind herself that _he wasn’t really there._

 _All you have to do is look in here…_ Zoey drew her phone from her bag and unlocked it, pulling up her camera roll. She _knew_ she had taken a few short videos at David and Emily’s gender reveal party just months ago.

After scrolling for a bit, Zoey found them: three short video clips, each about a minute long. She pressed play on the first video and waited with bated breath. Party guests milled around the Clarkes’ backyard, looking at the garden while they waited for the big reveal. The camera panned over as Maggie wheeled Mitch into the backyard, his eyes covered. Zoey watched her mother uncover her husband’s eyes, his eyebrows lifting ever-so-slightly at the sight of the party before him. Zoey swore under her breath as the camera panned away from Mitch and stayed locked on her brother and sister-in-law for the remainder of the video. _Nothing._

Relentless in her search for comfort, Zoey immediately pressed play on the second clip. This one also started focused on David and Emily, standing near a large black balloon dotted with question marks. When Emily popped the balloon with a pin, blue confetti burst free as cheers rang out from their guests. Zoey silently thanked herself when the camera panned over to Mitch once more, the telltale signs of joy streaming from his eyes. Zoey rejoiced as he started to sing.

_Shadows are fallin' and I'm runnin' out of breath_

_Keep me in your heart for a while_

_If I leave you it doesn't mean I love you any less_

_Keep me in your heart for a while_

During this first verse, Mitch rose from his wheelchair, glancing first at his wife, who had frozen in time with the rest of the crowd, and then slowly approaching his son and daughter-in-law. He then directed his attention at the camera, locking eyes with Zoey as he sang the second verse.

_When you get up in the mornin' and you see that crazy sun_

_Keep me in your heart for a while_

_There's a train leavin' nightly called "When All is Said and Done"_

_Keep me in your heart for a while_

Zoey shuddered out a breath as the video on her phone ended abruptly, right in the middle of her father’s verse. She jabbed her finger on the play button again, hoping against hope that the song would somehow continue. Her heart pounded in her chest as the first few seconds of the video played again, with the camera panning over to Mitch’s tear-stained face as he saw the blue confetti from David and Emily’s gender reveal explode into the air once again. Miraculously, he started singing from where he left off.

_Keep me in your heart for a while_

_Keep me in your heart for a while_

A ruthless stream of tears clouded Zoey’s vision as she clung to the memory of her father, willing him to stay just as he was in that moment forever.

_Hold me in your thoughts_

_Take me to your dreams_

_Touch me as I fall into view_

_When the winter comes_

_Keep the fires lit_

_And I will be right next to you_

Having finished the song this time, Zoey could have sworn she saw her father look straight at the camera and give her a slight nod. She settled her hand over her heart as her father had set out to do earlier, feeling the blood pumping rapidly below. The heart song was so _obvious—_ of course she would keep her father in her heart. He hadn’t left the confines of her mind since the day he passed away—really, since the day they had gotten the diagnosis. 

Feeling no less lost than she had before, Zoey rose from her desk right as Leif walked in, tablet in hand. “Zoey, can I show you—are you okay?” He paused at the doorway, scanning her tear-stained face with a slight crease between his eyebrows.

“Not now, Leif,” Zoey left her office through the other door, leaving a flustered Leif behind as he wondered what the hell had happened to Zoey this early in the workday.

Zoey marched towards the elevator and right out of the building, never glancing back once. She wandered the streets of San Francisco aimlessly, her mind turning over the lyrics of her father’s heart song again and again. In her dazed reverie, she suddenly found herself standing outside Maximo's, staring at the large brick building before her.

 _No…_ what was she _thinking?_ After how she had left things with Max the night before, barging into his workplace at ten in the morning was absolutely not a wise course of action.

She took a step towards the door. Simon had told her to decide whether she was willing to talk to Max. _Was she? At all?_ After seeing and hearing her father so vividly, all Zoey wanted to do was cling to the idea that he was still with her. Wouldn’t discussing her grief erase all of that?

Another step. Max probably didn’t want to see her. She had tried to _kiss him_ last night—after going to painstaking lengths to maintain her friendship with him, Zoey had unequivocally, definitely crossed The Line.

Her hand reached for the door. This could only end in disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from “Keep Me In Your Heart” by Warren Zevon.
> 
> Decided to throw in some of Max's POV here! More of that to come.
> 
> Technically some *minor* canon-divergence with the gender reveal party, but I hope you'll let that slide :)
> 
> I'm sorry this update took much longer than usual! School has been a lot this past week but I'll try to get chapter 5 out a little sooner :) Writing fics is the only thing that's going to keep me going during this hiatus!!


	5. Stop

Zoey was the last person Max had been expecting to see that morning, for a number of reasons. One was that it was ten o’clock, and having worked there for five years himself, he knew that meant Zoey should be at SPRQ Point. The more obvious reason, however, was that after they left things the way they had last night, _why was she here?_

Max’s eyes darted up from his work the second Zoey burst through the door, drawn to her as if by some imperceptible force. He sat frozen in his chair as her head spun in his direction almost immediately, making one thing very clear: she had come here looking for him.

Biting back her name, Max sat in silence, paralyzed by shock as Zoey stumbled over to him. As she neared, he could see that her eyes were red from crying. Broken out of his trance, Max pushed his chair back and stood up just in time to catch Zoey as she collapsed into his arms. She tightened her arms around his back as she wept quietly, hanging onto him for dear life. Despite being taken aback by the contact at first, Max eased into her grasp, rubbing comforting circles into the small of her back as he held her.

They stayed like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, for several minutes. After some time, Max could hear Zoey’s breathing return to normal, but she didn’t pull away. She clung to his body for a moment longer, and Max obliged.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ Zoey uttered, barely a whisper, as she pulled away from the embrace, her hands still firmly fixed on Max’s forearms. 

Max looked at her with momentary confusion, his mind still fogged with red hair and blue eyes. “For what?” 

“For last night. And for right now. Basically, for every single time I’ve ever run to you with all of my problems and then just… thrown them at you.”

“Zo, no… you have no reason to apologize.”

“But I _do,”_ she released a shaky breath and dropped her arms to her sides, turning to slowly pace the area behind her. “I haven’t been fully honest with you.”

Max crossed his arms in silence as he watched Zoey continue to walk around the restaurant. She came to an abrupt stop with her back facing away from him, and Max steadied himself for the revelation that was to come.

Zoey spun around. “Actually, can we not do this here? Unless… you have work to do?”

“I don’t,” Max fibbed, but what was a pile of paperwork compared to being there for Zoey? His devotion to her was enduring and unquestioning. “Where do you want to go?”

Zoey nervously wrung her hands in front of her. “My place?”

Max nodded and grabbed his keys off his desk without hesitation.

✷ ✷ ✷

They stayed silent in the car ride over. Zoey hadn’t left her hands alone since leaving the restaurant, rubbing her thumb in circles over her knuckles and twisting the shield-shaped ring on her right hand. 

When Max finally closed the door to Zoey’s apartment behind them, she made a beeline for the couch and sat in her usual seat. Max passively followed, though Zoey had given him very little context as to why she wanted to talk to him.

“So… look…” Zoey avoided Max’s eyes. “Remember how I told you that I’m hearing heart songs through videos now?” her eyes darted to the side, searching for his reaction.

Max swallowed and nodded.

“That’s how I ended up at the restaurant today. I was in my office, and I heard my dad sing to me again, and I just needed to get out of there.”

“I don’t get it. Why were you watching a video with your dad in it?” Max asked.

The question was simple and not unreasonable, but Zoey felt a complicated response burst forth from her mouth.

“Because I miss him. Because I see him everywhere I go, but that’s not enough. Because I need his voice like I need oxygen to breathe. Because I’m afraid… _terrified…_ that he’s going to disappear from my mind completely one day, and then what am I supposed to do?” Zoey choked out, the last few words sounding more like sobs.

Without Zoey even having to ask, Max’s arms pulled her into his chest once more as she broke down into tears that were even more despondent than before. Still, along with her tears, some, but not all, of the truth had finally poured out of her. Max could never _really_ understand what her grief was doing to her, but he saw the pain it was putting her through, and his comforting arms were exactly what she needed at that moment.

Max tightened his hold on Zoey, feeling her relax into his embrace. That was the most she had ever opened up to him about her grief.

“I don’t know what to do, Max,” she whispered into his shoulder. 

“Let’s talk through this,” Max suggested. Zoey wiped the tears from her face with a swipe of her hand. “The point of your powers is to help people, right?”

Zoey pulled her head up from his chest and laughed derisively. “Yeah, well, my dad is dead, and I _can’t exactly_ travel back in time and tell myself that you were in love with me. And something tells me it’ll be hard to get in touch with Ryan Gosling.”

Max averted her gaze. “Maybe… you’re not supposed to help the people who are singing to you.”

Zoey looked at him quizzically. “Max, you just said so yourself. The point of my powers is to help people.”

Max sighed. “Well, it’s like you said. All of these heart songs are coming to you from the past, from moments in time that are just memories now. _Maybe,”_ he brushed aside a loose tear on Zoey’s cheek with his thumb, “the person you need to help is _yourself.”_

Zoey stared at him incredulously. _“What?”_

Max doubled down. “Like, you’re _literally_ stuck in the past. Something is holding you back, and the heart songs you’re hearing are trying to help you break free.”

Zoey’s eyes unfocused as she ran Max’s words through her mind. _Was she stuck in the past? Could he be right?_

Instead, a deep furrow settled into her forehead as she drank in the words like poison. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, maybe you’re holding onto something that you’re not supposed to be?” Max said, though it sounded more like a question.

“Like my dad?” Zoey stood up, unable to contain her anger at what Max was implying.

“No, Zoey, that’s not what I’m saying—” Max rose from his seat and waved his hands in a placating gesture. 

“Then what _were_ you saying? Do you even know what I’ve been going through these past few months, Max? How little sleep I’ve gotten? How much _agony_ I’ve been in since the one person I cared about most in the world was taken away from me? _Do you know what that’s like?”_ Zoey couldn’t stop herself from screaming out the final sentence.

Max let his arms fall to his sides, allowing the words to hang in the silence between them. “No, Zoey. I don’t know what that’s like. You’re right,” he murmured.

Zoey stared at him, the corners of his mouth turned down slightly as he avoided her eyes. She let out a shaky breath and grabbed her head with both hands, pressing her fingers into her temples. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to blow up at you like that.”

Max nodded, his eyes meeting hers once again. “Look… I have a lot to work through with my grief. Clearly. And I want to _talk_ about it, with the people I care about… with you,” Zoey inhaled a long breath. “But until I figure out this thing with my powers—”

“Why does it always have to be about your powers? Can’t you decide what you want, _for once,_ without someone having to spell it out for you in song?” he said in a quiet voice that was tinged with bitterness. Zoey was taken aback by Max’s sudden change in demeanor—how he had been so relentlessly _there for her,_ holding her together with his embrace, and now how he was turning on her.

“God, this is so stupid,” Zoey huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t be here right now,” Max brushed past Zoey on his way to her door, but she grabbed his arm and held him back.

“No, it’s stupid because _I love you,_ Max, and it hurts so much that I can’t bring myself to talk to you about what I’m going through, no matter how much I want to!”

They both paused, eyes locked in a standoff, allowing Zoey’s words to fully sink in. Of all the times for her to finally admit her feelings out loud, of course it had to be _now,_ when they were fighting.

“You… _what…”_ Max looked down at the hand Zoey had enclosed around his arm, the desperate grasp of her fingers relaxing.

“I love you,” she said in a whisper that danced upon her lips, testing the words again. Her lips parted as she saw an indecipherable expression cross Max’s eyes, all of the lines in his face relaxing, his stare unblinking. Pins and needles stung the fingers she had wrapped around his arm, sending an intoxicating sensation up her spine.

“I… don’t know what to say,” Max said in a low voice, his ardent eyes betraying his emotions.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Zoey murmured, her hand dropping to Max’s as she loosely took both his hands in hers. He stared down at their intertwined fingers with a reverence and adoration that Zoey had never seen before.

“I’m just… Does this mean you want to…?” Max searched Zoey’s eyes, dumbfounded.

“Honestly, Max… I wasn’t planning on saying those words to you today, and I wish they had come out of me at a better moment. Because the truth is, I’m a mess,” Zoey admitted.

Max didn’t pull his eyes off her for a second. “Zoey, why…” 

“Because it’s _not fair,”_ Zoey uttered, her voice barely a whisper.“It’s not fair that my dad was the best person I knew and he’s _dead,_ and I’m one of the _worst_ people I know and I’m still here. I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Max stood stunned. “That’s not true. Your dad was the best person you knew—well, you’re the best person I know. You care so much about people, even when they’re not here anymore, that you would put their own happiness before yours.”

“But what about _your_ happiness, Max?” Zoey tearfully choked out. “If I care about everyone’s happiness so much, why can’t I bring myself to be with you?”

“That’s the thing, Zo. If this isn’t right for you, then okay. I’m not going to pretend it won’t hurt like hell letting you go, but… I love you. I don’t want you to feel trapped, or like I’m waiting for you to wake up one day and decide that you’re okay. Still… if you want to work through this—everything—together, then I’m yours,” Max smiled sadly, reaching out to wipe away the tears pooling under Zoey’s eyes with his thumb. “I only ever wanted you to be happy.”

Zoey breathed in and breathed out a shaky breath, allowing her eyes to meet Max’s, deep brown and warm and so full of love. Despite herself, she closed the distance between them and kissed him for the first time in what had felt like an eternity. When she felt him kiss her back, Zoey threw her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Max tangled one hand in her hair and set the other on her waist, leaving not even an inch of space between their bodies as they surrendered to the embrace. The kiss was slow and deep, Zoey noticed, with the two of them clinging to the moment as if trying to memorize the feel and taste of each other. Zoey allowed herself to grow languid in his embrace, tightening her arms around his neck as she shut her eyes tightly, holding back the tears she knew were coming. After a blissful moment in his arms, Zoey pulled away, her hands coming to rest on Max’s shoulders as she let out a shaky breath. She peered up into his eyes, which had already fallen—as if he knew that the kiss had been a kiss goodbye.

 _“Go,”_ Zoey whispered softly, letting her arms fall to her sides. She watched Max blink laboriously, wrestling between what he knew he should do and what he so desperately wanted to. His lips parted as if to say something, but he simply offered her a sad smile and a nod before heading for the door. As he glanced back at her, Zoey bit back every emotion that bubbled up inside her chest and watched him close the door, leaving her alone in the apartment.

When Max had gone, Zoey ran into her bedroom and buried her face in her pillow, body wracked with sobs. In one jagged motion, she tore the shield ring off her finger and set it dejectedly on her nightstand. Her middle finger now felt exceedingly bare, the skin aching for the part of Max she had just wrenched aside. 

She lay in bed the entire night, sleepless, staring at the ceiling and willing it to collapse in on her and swallow her body whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pain.
> 
> comments and kudos give me life, especially constructive criticism!! this scene hurtttt to write
> 
> if you like my stuff and want to keep up with my writing, feel free to follow me on tumblr! 5oomilesmore.tumblr.com :) i have a *very* fun new fic in the works that i'll be working on during the hiatus!


	6. Fast Forward

In the early hours of the morning, Zoey sat cross-legged on her couch, nursing a bowl of cereal in her lap. Sleep had completely eluded her—after the first hour, she had stopped trying altogether.

Telling Max to go had felt like snuffing the flame of a candle with her fingers—leaving her burnt and him smothered. She knew that despite them having what had been their most honest conversation to date, and despite her wanting _so badly_ to be, she still wasn’t ready. _Ready._ What a ridiculous concept.

The kiss had complicated things. For a moment, Zoey had wanted to tell Max to stay with her, to piece her broken heart back together, but she knew that was selfish and unfair. So she told him to go.

Zoey swirled her spoon around the bowl, absentmindedly scooping up spoonfuls of milk and cereal and pouring them out again. 

She was an awful person, really. And she had the audacity to love _Max—_ someone who would probably give her the goddamn moon if he could. 

Feeling completely despondent, Zoey shot off a quick text to Leif to notify him that she would be taking a personal day. She had been completely unfocused at work the entire week, so her absence would probably go unnoticed anyway. After slurping down the dregs of milk in her cereal bowl, Zoey changed into her favorite sweatpants and dark green hoodie. She had confidently settled on sulking around her apartment for the entire day, and she wasn’t entirely sure what changed her mind, but soon Zoey was driving in the direction of her mother’s home. She owed her family a visit.

Thankfully, David and Emily were early risers, regularly stopping by Maggie’s in the mornings for breakfast and visits with Miles. Emily answered the door when Zoey knocked, her eyes wide.

“Zoey!” Emily exclaimed happily, though the way her voice went up betrayed her surprise at seeing her sister-in-law.

“Hi, Emily,” Zoey said with a small wave as she crossed the threshold into the house.

Emily smiled and placed her hands on her hips. ”Your timing is impeccable. Miles is trying to shatter all our eardrums.” The moment the words left her lips, a wail sounded from the kitchen, and Emily instinctively covered her ears. She flashed a distressed look at Zoey. “Please help.”

Zoey walked into the kitchen to find David rocking his son in his arms and shushing him while Maggie flipped pancakes on the stove. “Oh, perfect,” David cried out triumphantly as he unloaded the baby into Zoey’s arms and wiped the slick of sweat off his forehead. 

She adjusted quickly, supporting the back of Miles’ head with one hand and his rear with her other. “Hi, Mi-Mi! You’re getting so big,” Zoey crooned admiringly.

“Yeah, well, an infant can grow a lot in three weeks,” Emily deadpanned. She pursed her lips as if realizing that the remark had sounded awfully snide. “Sorry, Zoey. I know you’ve been going through a lot.”

Zoey shook off the comment. “No, you’re right. I have been pretty absent lately. It’s just…” she heaved a sigh, glancing down at her nephew. “I think it was easier to wallow in my own personal bubble instead of allowing myself to experience even a _little_ joy. Like getting to hang out with _this one!”_ Zoey nuzzled the top of Miles’ head, and he cooed lazily in response.

Maggie approached her daughter, spatula in hand. “I, for one, am glad to be getting more Zoey time. It’s nice to see you, sweetie.”

Meeting her mother’s eyes with a smile, Zoey sighed, feeling Miles relax in her arms as he let out a small burp. He started to doze off, leaning his head against her chest. “Thank _God,”_ Emily whispered, gesturing vaguely over to Miles’ bassinet in the corner of the room. Taking the cue, Zoey walked over to the bassinet and slowly laid down her nephew until he sprawled out in a sleepy daze.

After a delicious breakfast of blueberry pancakes—despite having eaten cereal already, Zoey could never resist her mother’s cooking—Zoey meandered around the living room while the rest of the family chatted quietly in the kitchen. She sucked in a sharp breath when her eyes landed on Mitch’s seat on the couch, and she turned away. 

The picture frames her mother had artfully arranged on the bookshelf allured Zoey with their promise of happier times and memories. She walked up closer and idly ran her eyes over the photographs. Ones from when she and David were kids, wrapped in smiling hugs that would turn into nods of acknowledgment over the years. Plenty in the gardens, with her mother's flowers blooming brightly in the patterns that her father had arranged. There were also a number of photographs that included Max, but Zoey averted her eyes from those. Her heart twinged at the thought of how the years had slipped by so quickly.

Allowing herself to indulge even more in the comforts of the past, Zoey walked over to the television. She had taken a good stack of her father’s disks back to her apartment, but the many dozens from her teenage years and before were still in their spots. Zoey picked through the disks, flashes of past birthdays and holiday parties crossing her mind as she saw the titles, but none caught her eye more than the disk at the end of the stack. It was one that she appeared to have forgotten during her raid last week, from a family barbecue four years ago—the first one Max had attended around a year into their friendship.

Zoey gingerly lifted the disk from the shelf, testing the weight of it in her hand.

“Mom… David, Emily?” Zoey called into the kitchen tentatively.

A few seconds later, David peered into the living room. “Yeah?” 

“I just… was wondering if you all wanted to watch a video,” Zoey held up the disk and pointed at it, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, seeing that it’s—” David rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie and glanced at his bare wrist as if to check an imaginary watch, “—seven-thirty in the morning and I’m extremely unemployed, I’m down.”

Zoey nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth—David always knew how to lift her spirits.

“Hey Em, Mom! Come in here,” David yelled into the kitchen. Soon, the rest of the family had taken their seats in the living room, leaving Mitch’s seat on the couch open as they usually did.

“What are we watching, Zoey?” Maggie asked.

“The annual Clarke family barbecue, 2016,” Zoey replied matter-of-factly, lifting the remote and pointing it at the screen.

“Oh, sweetie, are you sure you want to—”

“I’m sure,” Zoey glanced over at her mother with a resolute nod. Maggie smiled hesitantly.

Here was another memory for Zoey to wrap around her like a security blanket, and this one, she hoped, wouldn’t have an accompanying musical number that raised far more questions than it answered. Zoey clicked the remote once and watched as the screen came to life, images playing out from one of the family’s long-lasting traditions.

“Looks like I was on camera duty, as usual.” David rolled his eyes good-naturedly, leaning back in his seat to admire his handiwork. The camera panned around the Clarkes’ backyard, which was bustling with friends and family mingling in small groups. “Oh, look, everyone’s favorite couple,” he chuckled, shooting a look at Zoey.

The camera had come to rest on a picnic table in the back of the yard, where Zoey and Max sat beside each other and chatted contently while eating their food. Zoey felt her stomach drop at David’s misguided comment, instinctively moving her hand to twist the ring on her finger only to remember that it was no longer there.

As the video continued without incident, Zoey was highly attuned to the fact that she hadn’t heard so much as a bar of music yet. Maybe she had broken out of “being stuck in the past” or whatever Max had said. After all, she had talked to him and told him a little bit about what she had been feeling, even if it hadn’t been the entire story. Maybe everything was back to normal.

The camera honed in on Mitch, who flipped hamburgers on the grill while chatting happily with Maggie. Zoey heard her mother sigh and turned to face her.

“He always did love being in charge of the grill during our barbecues,” Maggie laughed airily. “Meanwhile, I don’t think I’ve turned it on in months.”

“We should barbecue again, then,” Zoey reached out to squeeze her mother’s hand. 

In the video, Maggie and Mitch joined Zoey and Max at their table in the back, striking up a hearty conversation. Max said something that made Mitch laugh, and Zoey shook her head disapprovingly, though a smile stretched across her face. 

Zoey glanced around wistfully at her family, all glued to the screen. She returned her attention to the video. _No heart song._ Watching the video, it was like Mitch was still alive and with them. Still alive and with them…

_I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow_

The first bar of music jolted Zoey. Of course… how could she have been so naive to think she had fixed _anything?_ Mitch had risen from his seat and started singing, but not to the camera or to present-day Zoey—he was singing to the Zoey sitting at the picnic table.

_And each road leads you where you wanna go_

_And if you're faced with a choice and you have to choose_

_I hope you choose the one that means the most to you_

_And if one door opens to another door closed_

_I hope you keep on walkin' 'till you find the window_

_If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile_

_But more than anything, more than anything_

Her father was singing to her again. Her heart songs were still being broadcasted through video. Max was right—she was trapped in the past, and it seemed that despite her valiant attempts at breaking free, there was nothing she could do. Even with those unsettling thoughts clouding her mind, Zoey couldn’t help but revel in the sound of her father’s voice as she watched him walk slowly to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders.

_My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you want it to_

_Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small_

_You never need to carry more than you can hold_

_And while you're out there getting where you're getting to_

_I hope you know somebody loves you and wants the same things, too_

_Yeah, this is my wish_

This song was a lot like the one she had seen at the gender reveal party. From father to daughter, a wish for Zoey to live her life. She wondered why it was so hard to listen to the words when they were all she could hear all day.

_I hope you never look back but you never forget_

_All the ones who loved you in the place you left_

_I hope you always forgive and you never regret_

_And you help somebody every chance you get_

_But more than anything, yeah more than anything_

Was this all her life would be now—a constant cycle of being haunted by memories that both comforted her and screamed out for her to do something?

_My wish for you is that this life becomes all that you want it to_

_Your dreams stay big, your worries stay small_

_You never need to carry more than you can hold_

_And while you're out there getting where you're getting to_

_I hope you know somebody loves you and wants the same things, too_

_Yeah, this is my wish_

Zoey teared up as the music faded away and Mitch returned to his seat at the table. Ever since her father died, she had been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Almost like she had been waiting for his permission—to move on, to live her life. But he had already given it to her. When the rest of her family had decided to carry on after seeing Mitch’s testimonial to Maggie, Zoey had thought that she could allow herself to do the same. But she couldn’t, not really.

“Sweetie, what’s the matter?” Maggie asked, setting a hand on Zoey’s shoulder.

“Just… _God…_ I feel like there’s no right answer,” Zoey forced the words out through sobs, feeling like there was absolutely nothing she could do to heal the aching in her heart.

“No right answer? For what?” Maggie asked, rubbing her daughter’s arm. Zoey placed her hand over her mother’s, stilling her movements. Though they soothed her, they somehow also made her feel like she had failed.

“Ever since Dad died, all I can think about is what it felt like when he was alive, and how I miss him, and how it is so, so unfair that he’s not here anymore. And I know that’s selfish, especially because Dad said himself that he wants us to move on, but it feels like I’d be betraying him,” Zoey wrapped her arms around herself tightly. She peered up at her mother for some kind of validation, if only to be told that she wasn’t crazy.

“Zoey, you said it yourself, your father would want you to keep living your life. That doesn’t mean you have to let him go,” Maggie consoled her gently.

“I guess I’ve just been holding on to him so tightly for so long, I don’t know how to loosen my grip without letting everything tumble down,” Zoey paused. “This seems ridiculous to bring up to all of you. I just don't know how you’re so okay.”

“Okay? I’m not okay, not at all,” David chimed in. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on his legs, hands clasped in front of him. “If Miles wasn’t already keeping Em and I up half the night, I'd still be awake because there’s nothing to distract me at night from remembering that he’s gone.”

“Really?” Zoey asked warily. She knew her brother was also grieving, of course, but he did such a good job masking it that the revelation seemed incomprehensible.

“It’s true. When Miles wakes us up in the middle of the night, David uses that as an opportunity to talk to me. And,” Emily let out a shaky breath. “I guess I do my fair share of talking, too. Postpartum has been… well, I guess the best way to put it would be ‘kicking my ass.’”

“We’re both pretty messed up, but we lean on each other. When I feel myself spacing out during the day, you know, thinking of Dad… I know that I can talk to Em about it later. And that reminder keeps me going.” David reached out for Emily’s hand, and they intertwined their fingers, sharing knowing smiles.

“And, well…” Maggie heaved a sigh, taking Zoey’s hand with a reassuring smile. “I was holding on a little too tightly, too. After you moved back to your place, though, Jenna helped me find that spark I’ve been missing since your dad died. I realized that I don’t have to be altruistic every second of the day. I can take time for myself now without feeling guilty, and I know that’s what your father would want for me.” 

“Huh,” Zoey said introspectively, mulling over her family’s words. She redirected her attention to the screen and watched the rest of the video with them, weighing her father’s heart song against her habit of backsliding into self-pity. 

After Emily went off to work and Miles announced that he had woken up with a piercing cry, David excused himself to go feed the baby. Zoey and her mother agreed to watch more videos. Resting her head on her mother’s shoulder comfortably while they traveled through years of Clarke family history, Zoey felt at ease. She barely noticed the absence of heart songs in the subsequent videos.

Zoey spent the rest of the day at her mother’s home, helping Maggie tend the garden, changing Miles’ diapers, and hearing stories from David about stay-at-home fatherhood. It was dark when she finally drove home.

With the door to her apartment safely closed behind her, Zoey collapsed onto the couch. Allowing her family's words to fully sink in, she released pent-up sobs, letting the tears roll out of her in bursts. She had lost so much time and so many pieces of herself while wrapped up in the notion that she would be letting her father down—letting him go—if she moved on. Secretly resenting her brother and her mother for how they had been able to reconcile her father’s life and death, even though she knew they hadn’t stopped grieving. Resenting herself for not being able to find the strength in her that he would have wanted her to find. That she needed him to tell her, not once, but _twice,_ to live her life, since she could not admit the truth to herself.

_The person you need to help is yourself._

Max had been right, all along. Zoey’s heart songs had started coming to her from the past because that was where she had been holding herself hostage ever since her father had died. She had been grieving for so long, only to have been stuck in _denial_ the entire time.

The fact was, her father had passed away. Zoey had tried to hold onto him in all the wrong ways when she should have been holding onto his spirit. The spirit that believed in _bigger moments, bigger memories._ The spirit that held fast to love when all else went wrong. Zoey could honor her father by embracing life—just as he wished.

Zoey walked into her bedroom and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She picked the shield ring up off her nightstand and examined it with care—it was something so small, and yet its significance was immeasurable. With a sigh of relief, Zoey slipped the ring back onto her finger and twisted it—not with anxiety, but with anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts.
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated! :)
> 
> chapter 7 should be out much quicker than this one! i'll also probably start releasing the new fic i've been working on either this week or next because why not


	7. Play

After the all-nighter she had pulled the night before, any amount of sleep would have felt like plenty to Zoey that night. Still, her slumber had been unusually smooth sailing, even by normal standards. The routine feeling of extreme sadness that hit her every morning since she had started waking up to a world without her father in it never sank in. Instead, Zoey opened her eyes to the comforting reminder that he would always be in her heart.

Zoey sat up in bed and stretched her arms above her head with a yawn. It was Saturday morning— _thankfully,_ she thought—so there was no need to make up another excuse to skip work. She could scarcely wait another second to tell Max that she wanted to be with him, finally, with complete certainty. It was only a question of whether he still wanted her.

Soon, Zoey had carefully pulled a hot Pop-Tart out of her toaster, juggling it from hand to hand while it cooled. She rested her elbows on the kitchen counter and took a bite of the pastry, the warm cinnamon and brown sugar melting in her mouth as flashes of Max’s face crossed her mind. Most vivid was the way he had looked at her two days ago when she had told him to leave—faint creases between his eyebrows, lips that parted briefly before lifting into what could scarcely be called a smile. Would he even want to see her? 

_“Max is the most loyal guy that I’ve ever met. Like, inadvisably loyal. Seriously, he should’ve been over me months ago.”_ That was what she had said to Mo weeks ago, and she had to believe that it was still true. If anything, she couldn’t give up now, without trying—he was worth it.

Zoey considered calling Max and asking him to come to her apartment—she was almost certain that she could summon him there in the blink of an eye—but that felt unfair. Instead, she set off once again for Maximo’s for the umpteenth time that week.

Climbing into her car, Zoey felt a distinct feeling of confidence and certainty for the first time in—was it presumptuous to say—her entire life. No more was she driven by blind instinct, by the vague feeling that she _needed_ Max but for _what?_ She finally knew what she wanted and what she was going to say.

After finding street parking, Zoey strode up to the restaurant, her walk turning into a light jog and then a run as she felt the anticipation overtake her, not wanting to be apart from him for even a second longer. Zoey burst through the door and turned to look at Max’s desk.

It was empty.

“Looking for someone, Zoldilocks?” Zoey turned her head to see Mo standing behind the bar, inspecting her with a raised eyebrow. Based on the smug look on his face, Zoey guessed that the question had been rhetorical.

“Yes! Max, is he here?” Zoey asked in a flurry, slightly out of breath from her impromptu sprint up to the restaurant. 

Mo shook his head. “You’re out of luck. He came in early to gather some paperwork and then told me he’s working from home the rest of the day.”

Zoey groaned and rested her hands on her knees, still waiting for her oxygen levels to return to normal. When she could finally breathe again, she walked up to the bar and gestured at the array of bottles in front of Mo. “Whatcha working on?”

“Trying to get the flavors just right for my Mi-Mo-Sas.” Mo lifted a plastic bottle of orange juice and poured it gently over the thin-stemmed flute in front of him. He held the glass up to Zoey. “Want a taste?”

Zoey shrugged off her past experiences with Mo’s cocktails—which more often than not tasted like liquid fire—and accepted the glass from his hand. After taking a small sip, she hummed appreciatively. “Wow _,_ Mo. This is _amazing.”_

Mo waved off the compliment. “But of course. How could you expect anything less than greatness from me?”

Zoey bit back a witty retort and set the glass back down on the bar with a smile. “You’re right, Mo. And the truth is, you’ve _literally_ been the greatest—always listening to my problems, offering advice…” Zoey paused, meeting Mo’s eyes. “And I haven’t been that same person for you. I’ve been making you shoulder a lot of the emotional labor that I should have been doing on my own, and that’s not fair to you. So, what I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry.”

Mo moved his hands to his hips with discernible surprise. “Zoey Clarke! I’ll certainly say, when I saw you burst in here like a chicken with its head cut off that was the _last_ thing I thought I’d hear you say.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Realized some things. Came to some profound conclusions,” Zoey grinned.

“Thank you for calling me _literally the greatest._ I cherish the sentiment, really, _but_ I have a feeling there’s somewhere else you should be right now,” Mo gave Zoey a meaningful look, placing both hands on the surface of the bar and leaning over. “Go talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Zoey nodded. “I will.”

Zoey tapped her hands on the bar a few times and smiled nervously at Mo before turning around and making a beeline for the door. She gave her friend one more giddy look over her shoulder before leaving.

✷ ✷ ✷

As if by divine intervention, Zoey encountered not a single red light as she raced to Max’s apartment, breezing through the intersections. Her luck turned around when she approached his building, letting out a small groan of frustration when she saw that the street was packed with cars. Zoey gave the steering wheel a light slap. _Come on,_ she willed the universe as she circled the block, searching for even the tiniest gap between cars. With a yelp of triumph, Zoey shuffled her car into a tight spot between two minivans, spinning the wheel with all the speed she could muster. Finally, she emerged from the car, slamming the door behind her and aimlessly pressing the button on her key to lock the door as she ran towards Max’s apartment.

She flung open the door and ran up the stairs, narrowly avoiding a collision with another woman. Zoey tossed a quick apology over her shoulder and continued climbing, ignoring the mounting burn in her legs. After the third flight, she came to a stop in front of Max’s door, pressing both hands against the wall to lean over and catch her breath. She had no business running around like that when she hadn’t been to the gym in years, but it didn’t matter.

Despite still feeling her heart pump rather quickly, Zoey stood upright and faced the door. She rapped her knuckles on the dark green wood three times, hoping he was home. _Mo said he went home. He has to be home, right? What if he’s not here? Oh God, what if he’s not—_

“Zoey?” Max stretched out her name in the form of a question, holding the door open with his left hand. His body stood firmly between the hallway and his apartment—one final barrier that Zoey could only hope she had the strength to take down.

“Can we talk?” she implored him in earnest. A wounded look lingered in his eyes as he stood silently, as if weighing his options. “Max,” she breathed out his name, hoping against hope that he would give her a chance.

“Come in,” he gestured weakly with his right hand and stepped aside, an impenetrable expression on his face.

Zoey waited for him to close the door with her hands behind her back, fingering the ring on her right hand one final time for strength. When he turned to face her, the words tumbled out before she could even think to think about them. “First, I just want to start off by saying that I’m sorry. I’ve been in a horrible place these past few weeks, and instead of giving you the space that I should have, I kept asking too much of you. That was unfair to you.”

She inhaled a deep breath, looking into Max’s eyes with a pleading expression. He stared down at her silently, nodding subtly for her to continue. _This was it._

“This week has been… _excruciating,_ because I’ve been pushing you away and yet, every time we’re together… I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I can’t even think what it would be like to actually lose you.”

A small smile quirked at the corner of Max’s mouth, though his eyebrows were still knitted in concern. Zoey pressed on. “If we’re talking about grief, then the truth is, I’m not ready. And I probably never will be. But it's not about _being_ ready, if that even exists. It's about accepting that this is a part of me. One that I want to share, because without it, I'm not me. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is… There’s nobody else I could ever picture sharing all of it—all of me—with but you, Max. I want to be with you… if you’ll have me.”

Eyebrows arched with hope, Max looked at Zoey like she was the only person that had ever existed. His lips parted in that way she noticed they did when he was at a loss for words. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him right that second, but after the week they had, she knew it was up to Max if they were going to be something for real, for good this time.

“Zoey,” he stepped close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Zoey felt her own lips part as he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I just need you to know that—”

_When I look into your eyes_

_It's like watching the night sky_

_Or a beautiful sunrise_

_Well there's so much they hold_

Max’s seamless transition from speaking to singing sent a familiar jolt through her spine. He was singing to her—right here, _right now,_ and Zoey felt tears of joy pool at the corners of her eyes as a relieved laugh escaped her lips. No pause button, no rewind—just Max, bearing his soul to her once again. His voice enveloped her in its warm embrace as he caressed her cheek with care, as if it were something delicate that could be easily shattered. 

_And just like them old stars_

_I see that you've come so far_

_To be right where you are_

_How old is your soul?_

Now he was reaching a hand out for her, which Zoey gratefully accepted. He twirled her under his arm once and then also took her other hand, singing while looking deeply into her eyes. Zoey thought she might melt under his warm, attentive gaze.

_Well, I won't give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I'm giving you all my love_

_I'm still looking up_

Zoey’s heart fluttered at the sound of the word “love” upon Max’s lips, her stomach turning accordingly. The thought crossed her mind that he was experiencing something entirely different at that very moment, though she had no idea what.

✷ ✷ ✷

“So, I guess what I'm trying to say is… There’s nobody else I could ever picture sharing all of it—all of me—with but you, Max. I want to be with you… if you’ll have me,” Zoey looked at him expectantly, her forehead wrinkled with hope. Max had known from the moment he had opened the door to see her standing in the hallway that he would once again be at her mercy, but he hadn’t expected _this._ Here she was: Zoey, his best friend, his favorite person in the entire world, saying she wanted to be with him. Max thought he had never heard anything better.

“Zoey,” he brushed a stray curl out of her face, uttering her name with extreme care, like it was sacred. “I just need you to know that you could never lose me. You mean the _world_ to me, Zo. I’d do anything for you.”

She stared at him with slightly glazed-over eyes, a lazy smile persisting at the corners of her mouth. Max waited with bated breath to see what she would say, swallowing nervously. _This was it._

✷ ✷ ✷

_And when you're needing your space_

_To do some navigating_

_I'll be here patiently waiting_

_To see what you find_

For these lyrics, Max had gently lowered his arms to his sides, breaking off contact. Zoey reached out for him, yearning for them to never be apart again, but he slowly walked backward until he leaned his back against the door, one arm still reaching out for her. Thankfully, he strode back up to her for the next portion of the song, recapturing her hands in his with a light squeeze.

_I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily_

_I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make_

_Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts_

_We got yeah we got a lot at stake_

_And in the end you're still my friend at least we did intend_

_For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn_

_We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in_

_I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not_

_And who I am_

Zoey found herself paying more attention to these lyrics than she had for any prior heart song. Somehow, they perfectly encapsulated everything she and Max had been through, most of all the reminder that above all else, they were friends. Even with the gradual trading of “I love yous” and the build of deeper feelings until they could no longer be contained, that bond was what had given them strength all along.

_I won't give up on us_

_Even if the skies get rough_

_I'm giving you all my love_

_I'm still looking up_

As he crooned out the final notes of the song and the music faded away, Max’s heart song smile faded into an expression that looked significantly more anticipatory—she guessed that in reality, he had just told her something. Zoey looked down at her hands in his and laughed breathlessly, still riding the high of the beautiful heart song she had just heard. If she had been looking in the mirror at that very moment, she imagined that the most unabashedly massive smile of her life would have taken over her entire face.

“You just… sang to me,” Zoey joyfully cried out, the speed of her heartbeat increasing by the second. It was something she had freely admitted, delighted in revealing, even, because it meant she had _finally found the answer._

“What, you mean like right now?” The nervous wrinkles in Max’s forehead multiplied, and his eyes went impossibly wide.

“Yes, right here, right now,” Zoey smiled, ecstatically squeezing her hands more tightly over his. “I don’t know the song… but it was something about not giving up on us, even when the skies get rough. You giving me all your love… you know, the usual,” 

He wore a bemused smile, glancing down at their hands before looking back at Zoey. “So, what do you think? What does this mean?” Max asked, ceding control to her once more. Zoey took a deep breath—she knew what to say.

“I think… whatever you want it to mean? Look, I know you can’t really control what comes out of your mouth when I’m in Zoeyland, so… um…” Zoey chewed the inside of her cheek and twisted the ring on her finger, “Your call.” 

Max feigned uncertainty, scratching his chin and looking off to the side. However, Zoey, entirely too wrapped up in the anticipation, in wanting to throw her arms around him that very second, took his reaction to mean he might want to take back the words of the heart song. Had it just been another fleeting thought that had crossed his mind? She knew it wasn’t up to her whether or not the heart song actually reflected his true feelings, but Zoey ached for an answer.

“Zoey,” Max brought her train of thought to an abrupt stop as he reached up to caress her cheek with his thumb and rested his fingers under her jaw. “Any time, no matter where, when, why, no matter what you need, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

Zoey blinked up at him, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her cheek. “I know. You’ve always been my rock. But Max, I want to be there for you, too. Even when it gets hard, _especially_ when it gets hard, I promise not to shut you out. I’m yours,” she grinned wickedly, just as he had done after she had sung the song to him. “And I know my power and my grief complicate things, but I want to make this work, for both of us.”

Max smiled, his voice a gentle thrum just above a whisper. “You’re incredible, you know that? Showing up here like this.”

The fact that he seemed so moved by her gesture, however small it had been compared to everything he had done for her, only made Zoey more adamant. _“Max._ I would have run all over the city to find you if that’s what it took. I care too much about you to ever risk letting you go.”

He shook his head with a delighted smile, completely and utterly enraptured by her. “I love you.”

The words scratched an itch in Zoey’s mind that had festered for months, lying in wait for the day he would say them. Sure, he had told her as much, directly and indirectly, in varying cadences, contexts, and scenarios, but never quite like this. Here, just the two of them, with the mutual understanding that they were something _more._

“I love you, too,” Zoey sighed contentedly, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. “It feels so good to say that out loud. I _love_ you,” she repeated, relishing in the sound of the words as they left her lips.

“Say it as many times as you want. I’m not complaining,” Max grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

Zoey shook her head with amusement, throwing her arms around his neck to meet his lips with her own as she smiled into the kiss. Whereas the kiss they had shared in Zoey’s apartment two nights before had been a slow, languorous embrace before goodbye, this time, they quickly abandoned all notions of patience. Tasting coffee on his lips and feeling his fingers deftly twist into her curls, Zoey’s mind was overpowered with Max. They lost themselves in each other’s arms, kisses turning more fervid by the second. Too preoccupied otherwise to tell him out loud, Zoey recited the words over and over again in her mind.

_I love you, Max Richman._

✷ ✷ ✷

Later, they lay in his bed, limbs intertwined as Zoey rested her cheek on Max’s bare chest with a relieved sigh, pulling him closer to her side with an arm across his stomach. He responded in kind, pressing a warm kiss to her hairline as she snuggled in closer.

“‘I Won’t Give Up,’ huh?” Max smiled. “That’s what I sang to you, right? Hm,” he hummed introspectively, running his fingers down Zoey’s arm in a dance that set her skin on fire. 

Zoey craned her neck up to look at him. “Is that what it’s called?” she sighed, shaking her head. _“How_ do people know the names of random songs? Mo always mocks me when I don’t know one, but I swear—” Max silenced her musings by leaning down to press a tender kiss against her lips. She glanced back up at him with an adorably quizzical look on her face. “What was that for?”

“Oh, no big deal, it’s just the singer of that song? He also sings another song that I hold very near and dear.”

“What song?” Zoey asked. Max raised his eyebrows innocently, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. “What song? _Tell me,_ Max, or I swear I’ll tell my _dear friend_ Danny Michael Davis that he should reconsider his investment choices!”

Max gasped in feigned affront. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Zoey narrowed her eyes at him. “I have him on speed dial.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t hesitate no more. It cannot wait,” Max said, a smile creeping onto his face.

“That was… a weird way to phrase… _oh!”_ Zoey gasped when she realized it, her eyes shooting up to meet Max’s once more with a glare. She gave him a playful shove with one hand. “You _dork.”_

“Come on, you love it.” Max teased.

“Maybe,” Zoey rolled onto her stomach and folded her arms over Max’s chest, resting her chin on her hands. She stared at him, a smile slowly working its way to her eyes. It was remarkable to him how she could so easily take up every inch of space in his mind. Zoey may have sung “I’m Yours” to him, but Max knew that his heart was eternally, undeniably hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from "I Won't Give Up" by Jason Mraz, aka the ultimate Clarkeman song because COME ON
> 
> get ready for the fluffiest of fluff. after all the angst i wrote i went a *little* overboard.


	8. Scene Selection

_Goodbye, Zoey._

Zoey awoke with a gasp that folded into heaving breaths. She gripped the mattress, bracing herself as she regained her bearings. As she glanced to her left and right, she took in her surroundings. Musty beige walls, early morning light peeking through the curtains—she was back in her bedroom. Max sat up abruptly at the sound of her choked breaths, cautiously laying a hand on each of her shoulders until she met his eyes.

“Zoey? Hey, I’m here. You’re safe,” She collapsed into his arms, burying her head in the crook of his neck. Max did that thing that always calmed Zoey’s racing heart, rubbing comforting circles into the small of her back.

“I saw him again,” she murmured, hanging on tightly. The feel of Max’s breath and the pressure points formed by his fingers on her back grounded her in reality. She breathed in sync with the steady rise and fall of his chest, composing herself in his arms.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. Zoey knew that if she pushed him away and said that she didn’t want to, he would back off without incident. That wasn’t what she wanted, not anymore. Max was her oasis in a scorching desert of uncertainty—when all else failed, she found strength in his affirming words and his unwavering arms.

Zoey nodded into his shoulder. “It was different this time. I walked up to the wharf with my dad to go sailing. It was a nice day, sun out, barely any waves…” Zoey closed her eyes, breathing in the memory of her dream. “He got on the sailboat, and I tried to get on after him, but the boat just started drifting away. And I screamed for him to turn around, to come back to shore, but he just smiled and waved at me.”

Max sucked in a breath. “That must have hurt to watch, Zo. I’m sorry.”

Zoey shook her head, pulling back to peer at him with tears pooling in her eyes. “That’s not the worst part, though. After a while, when the boat started getting further and further away, I stopped screaming. I started… _smiling,”_ Zoey recalled. A feeling of self-disgust settled in her, and she shut her eyes tightly into his shoulder, trying to dispel the memory from her mind.

“That sounds really rough. Seeing your dad like that… I can’t imagine what you were feeling,” Max said attentively, continuing to rub her back. “Did anything happen after that?”

“No, he just… kept saying goodbye to me, over and over, and the boat drifted down to the horizon, where I could barely see it—and that’s when I woke up.” Zoey heaved a sigh, digging her fingers into Max’s back. “It’s not that I was _happy_ to see him go, I don’t think. But I was okay with it.”

Max pulled back slightly to rest his forehead on Zoey’s, moving the hand from her back to lightly cup her cheek. “Hey. You’ve been through so much this past year, and through it all, you've been so strong. It's okay to feel okay.”

Zoey could only offer a meek smile in her still-shaken state. “I know. Thank you. It helps so much to know that you’re here, Max.”

“Always. I’m not going anywhere,” Max murmured, smiling down at her through eyes still heavy with sleep. “Do you want to take a walk?”

She nodded, holding onto his hand as she reluctantly pulled out of the embrace. If staying in bed with Max all day wasn’t realistic, at least the feel of his skin against hers was a reminder that she was safe and secure, here with him.

Walks had become Zoey’s preferred method of calming herself down after her abrupt returns to reality from her jarring nightmares. After one week of pure contentment with Max—getting coffee with him before work, meeting for lunch at the restaurant with him and Mo, alternating nights spent at her apartment and his—her nightmares had returned in full force. Nothing held her back any longer from opening up to Max, and he had been wonderful, helping her process the complicated emotions that intrusively pushed into her mind.

A half-hour later, they walked leisurely by the bay, Zoey leaning her head on Max’s shoulder, Max with his arm wrapped around her waist. Zoey breathed in the closeness, the faint smell of his cologne, the salty ocean breeze—they all coalesced in perfect harmony, wiping away every trace of her nightmare. Bright blue ocean water rolled nearby in quiet waves.

“So, what were you thinking for lunch today?” Max asked, glancing down at Zoey with a smile. She tapped her chin thoughtfully, scrunching up her face in contemplation.

“Hmm… how about Thai?” Zoey tilted her head up with an innocent expression on her face, perfectly aware that they had gotten Thai food twice already that week.

Max looked at her incredulously. “You are insatiable, I swear.”

Zoey shrugged. “I just know what I like.”

“Yeah?” Max stopped their walk to wrap his arms around her waist, a teasing gleam in his eyes.

Zoey leaned up on her tiptoes as if to kiss him but stopped inches away. “I _really_ like pad see ew.” She dropped back onto the balls of her feet and started walking ahead, glancing over her shoulder with a wicked grin at a dumbstruck Max.

He picked up his stride to catch up to her, and Zoey ran ahead with a roaring laugh, shrieking delightedly when he picked up his pace. Max caught her with an arm around her stomach from behind and lifted her up, both of them erupting into a fit of giggles.

Max set Zoey down and took her hand, spinning her around to face him. “Come here,” he said softly, a smile dancing upon his lips.

She met his lips in a tender kiss, both hands on his jaw to pull him closer to her. “You know… what’s weird?” Zoey asked in between kisses, smiling up at Max with her eyes.

He gave her a funny look and brushed another kiss on her lower lip. “What?”

Zoey moved her hands from Max’s face to his shoulders, patting them in a deliberate motion. “I’m really happy right now.”

“What’s weird about that?” Max asked, regarding her with a curious fascination.

“Well, I mean… I’m always happy when I’m with you, Max. But this feels different,” Zoey smiled, more shyly this time.

The corners of his mouth tilted up to match the crinkles in his eyes. “Yeah. I know what you mean.” 

After stealing another kiss from his lips, Zoey fell into step beside Max once more, laughing at some joke he made. In any case, she was too engrossed in him to remember what it had been about—all she could think of was how she’d be perfectly content to walk with him like this forever.

✷ ✷ ✷

Boxes of Thai takeout lay haphazardly on the coffee table while Zoey and Max sat on the couch, plates in their laps. Despite having patronized their favorite Thai place across the street from SPRQ Point multiple times already that same week, they ordered the same dishes as always. If anything, they were consistent.

Max clicked his tongue as Zoey stole a piece of chicken off his plate with her chopsticks. “Thief.”

“You should know to expect my thievery by now, Maxwell. It’s your fault you don’t defend your plate better,” Zoey raised an eyebrow with an impish grin, popping the chicken into her mouth.

Max retaliated, sliding his chopsticks toward her plate to swipe a noodle, but Zoey countered with a quick _thwack_ of wood against them, brandishing her own chopsticks. _“Hey!”_ Max protested.

“Like I said. Defend your plate,” Zoey shrugged innocently, but she allowed Max to take the noodle off her plate on his second try.

Max would never get over the little things about Zoey that he had fallen in love with, her playful belligerence being one of them. He decided that if she wanted to steal the food off his plate for the rest of their lives, he would be perfectly fine with that.

“Anyway, you won’t _believe_ what Leif sent me on Slack, it— Zoey?” he had looked down at his plate to capture another bite of food with his chopsticks, but when his gaze settled on her face once more, she was staring straight at him. 

That familiar far-off look had taken root in Zoey’s eyes, spreading slowly across her face as she blinked—physically present, but off somewhere in the far reaches of her mind. A familiar feeling of panic set into Max’s chest. _What could she be hearing at that moment? What was he singing? And why did Zoey look so on edge?_

Then Zoey blinked back into consciousness, if it could even be called a blink—she shut her eyes so tightly Max was worried they might disappear into her skull before they opened once more. Her eyes flicked around the room as if to regain her bearings before landing on Max with a sheepish look.

“Zoey,” Max tested her name, not wanting to upset the status quo too much. “Did I just sing a heart song to you?”

Zoey avoided his eyes at first but then acquiesced. “Yes.”

The simple response unsettled Max, as did the shiftiness of Zoey’s eyes. He expected her to elaborate, to perhaps explain at least the gist of the song, but her mouth remained firmly shut.

Max shuddered out a breath. “What… what did I sing?”

“Nothing. No big deal. It was barely a song, actually—” Zoey rattled off, gathering the boxes of takeout in her arms as she walked toward the kitchen. The shortness of her response only amplified Max’s nerves. In the two weeks since they had pressed “play” on their relationship, Zoey had been uncharacteristically forthright about her powers, informing Max of every little tune she heard him sing. Why was she hiding _this one_ from him?

Glass of water in hand, Max rose from his seat on the couch and slowly approached Zoey as she bustled around the kitchen. “Look, Zo… I don’t want to push you, but if I’m being honest, you’re kind of worrying me. Please… could you tell me what the song was about, at least?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together. Max took a long sip of water in preparation for the horrible truth, wondering what had possibly slipped through the cracks of his mind. “Okay, I didn’t recognize it, but one of the lyrics was all ‘I see us in black and white,’ and ‘I promise that I’ll love you for the rest of my life.’ Basically, you didn’t say ‘marry me’ but you also didn’t _not_ say ‘marry me’ and I don’t really know what to make of that.” Her voice trailed off at the end, but Max had already frozen at the first ‘marry me.’

Max choked on his water and coughed twice, his face going beet red. Zoey wrung her hands uncomfortably and twisted the ring on her finger, something he noticed she did when she was nervous. While he regained his composure, Zoey took his hand and started rambling again. “Max, you know I love you, but I don’t know if I’m _ready_ for—”

“Wait, Zoey, just…” Max placed his hand under Zoey’s chin, tilting her head up. “I don’t have a ring box in my pocket or anything, so please don’t take what I’m about to say… _that_ way…”

Zoey nodded, tension wrinkling her forehead.

Max dropped his hand from her jaw, gesturing wildly as he worked through an explanation. “It’s just, I guess I kind of got swept up in the moment, thinking about the future… not that I have any definitive _plans_ for the future, or anything… I mean, I don’t _not_ want to marry you someday, but…” Max stammered in clipped sentences, talking faster with each additional word.

Zoey put an end to the train of thought with a kiss, fisting the fabric of his shirt in her hands to pull him closer to her. Max was almost too surprised to reciprocate at first but quickly fell into the kiss, tangling his hands in her hair. After they pulled apart, Max waited for an explanation, still too giddy to think straight.

“I _don’t not_ want to marry you someday, too. The song just caught me off guard, that’s all,” Zoey teased, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I do have plans, though. Fair warning.”

Max eyed her with a bemused smirk on his face. “You have _plans?”_

Zoey gave him a light shove on the shoulder. “Hold your horses, Richman. They’re long-term plans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (a snippet of) Lyrics from "Black And White" by Niall Horan.
> 
> in keeping with the theme of the rest of my chapter titles in this story (DVD remote-related), this one is entitled "scene selection" - a selection of shamelessly fluffy scenes, if you will.
> 
> that's it for this one!! i have some more fluff for this story that i thought might be a bit much, buuut i might just publish it as a one-shot in addition to this :) thank you all for joining me on this angsty journey<3
> 
> also ! i do have another story that i'm going to start publishing in the next few days, probably. so keep an eye out! ;)


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